The Lady's Gentleman
by TheCrownedLioness
Summary: Niles has an argument with Maxwell and is fired, finding himself without a job or a place to live. Will he receive help from a certain blonde socialite, and can Mr. Sheffield be persuaded to take his butler back?
1. Niles Doesn't Work Here Anymore

**Hi, everybody! It's been a little while because I've had a** ** _lot_** **of university work to get through, but I've finally gotten around to beginning to post multi-chapter fics. I asked a few people on Tumblr which idea (out of four that I'd most developed) I should focus on first, and the first thing those people might notice about this is that this wasn't the most popular choice. I must apologise to them for this, but when I continued writing each of the stories, this was the one I just felt most able to write for at the time. I will be writing the others fully in the future, though, so I promise no one will miss out.**

 **I'm not sure I'm completely happy with this chapter, mainly because I love writing interaction between Niles and C.C., and C.C. isn't in this chapter, but also because I'm not sure I've quite got the characterisation right here. But I can assure you that there will be plenty of interaction between Niles and C.C. in later chapters, and I will continue to make my stories the best that they can be. At any rate, I hope that you enjoy it. And in terms of context, this fiction work would be set somewhere around early Season 6.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, any of the characters, or settings.**

* * *

The argument had been going for nearly an hour. Nobody really even knew how it had started. Niles had probably asked Mr. Sheffield for a pay rise again, but that was the best guess that Fran and the children could make, considering none of them had been into the office. Especially not after the shouting began.

It was due any second to spill out into the living room; they could hear it coming closer. The family members tried to make their various escapes in different directions, but it was too late, and the Broadway producer marched forcefully into the living room, followed closely by the butler. Niles was in the middle of a sentence as he stormed through the doors, scowling at Maxwell.

"I've looked after you _all my life_ -"

"Which is funny because by now, you ought to have learned to _know your place around here_!"

That stopped the butler in his advance. He straightened up, shocked, and visibly hurt and angry.

"I thought my place was as a _part_ of this family, you ungrateful, oblivious-"

"You're _not_ a part of this family! You are a _servant_. Your place is to _clean up after this family_ , and it always has been!" Maxwell paused, as though considering something, and his voice became oddly calm, if slightly heated. "At least it was. Get out; you're fired."

The butler marched past him and the other gathered witnesses, towards the stairs, "You fire me at least three times every week you idiot, this isn't any different!"

"Yes it is, because this time I _really mean it_!" Maxwell snapped back, following close behind. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the rage-filled part of him determined to have the last word.

"Well, you can't fire me, because I quit!" Niles leaned over the banister to yell out. "And it's not a _moment too soon_ , either!"

Maxwell continued his tirade as the butler's form continued to retreat in the direction of his room, "Technically, it's a moment too _late_ , because _I JUST FIRED YOU_!"

He was answered with the sound of a distant slamming door, the ferocity causing everyone who had been watching to flinch. The only one who stood still was Max himself. After a moment or two of complete silence he seemed to collect himself, gave a stiff nod, and made to head back into his office. Fran's eyes followed her husband, until the doors separated him from her line of vision. She then glanced around at the children, all of whom had barely moved.

She wrapped her arms around Maggie and Grace's shoulders, pulling Brighton in closer with one hand so she could hug them all.

"Hey, why don't you guys go into the kitchen an' get the Chinese takeout menu?" she suggested gently. "We'll order in tonight. I'll be right back."

Letting Maggie take the lead in ushering her siblings into the kitchen, Fran made her way upstairs.

The door to his room was open, and she found the now former butler emptying his wardrobe, a suitcase open on the bed and a small pile of clothes already inside.

"Niles, I-"

"Save it, Fran," the butler replied without looking up. He dumped more clothes into the case. "It's been a long time coming."

The former nanny struggled to find words – _any_ words, that she thought might make him change his mind about leaving.

After a few moments, she finally found a compelling argument, "Well, can't'cha at least wait until it's morning? It'll be dark in a few hours!"

"I'm a grown adult, I know how to take care of myself," Niles tightened his lips until his mouth formed a line, and he huffed in indignation. "Besides, it's been made very clear that I'm not welcome here anymore."

Fran tried again, "He's just upset; give him some time ta cool off-"

Niles ceased angrily folding up the last of his shirts to glare at her.

"How long do you recommend exactly, hm? Long enough for me to placate him by bringing him a glass of brandy? Or perhaps something a little more long-term, like preparing his favourite dinner? I can't exactly go and talk to him like an equal – you heard what he said. I am a servant, and I should learn to _know my place_."

He spat the final words out bitterly, slamming his now-full suitcase shut as he did so. Fran jumped a little. She'd never seen him so worked up about anything. Well, maybe once or twice with Miss Babcock, but this was a different kind of worked up. Niles didn't seem to be getting any kicks out of _this_ argument.

She made one last ditch effort to get her friend to stop and think, "…What're ya gonna do? Where are ya gonna _go_?"

Her friend stared at his suitcase, "I don't know. I don't really care, either. I'll find somewhere – anywhere. I'm not without experience, and I still have my degree to fall back on."

It sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself, rather than her. Not that his prospects were truly worth that much. When it came to hiring, a middle-aged butler with a degree older than some people looking to _start_ careers wasn't high on the list, as far as most employers were concerned. Fran frowned deeply, only able to watch as he lifted the case up, used his free hand in order to straighten his jacket, and turned to head out.

She followed him downstairs, to the front door. The children were waiting there, too. It appeared as though both Maggie and Grace had been crying – there were still a few tears in the youngest Sheffield's eyes, threatening to overspill. Pulling herself free of her sister, she ran towards the butler, and hugged him around the middle.

"Please don't go, Niles."

Niles gently lowered his case to the ground so he could hug her back, "I'm sorry, Little One, but I have to."

Maggie stepped forward, determination in her eyes, "But Daddy's wrong in this! He can't just-"

Niles cut her off, "I'm afraid he _can_ , Miss Margaret. And neither you, nor I, nor anybody else for that matter, can change that. Now I'm sorry, but…that's just the way it is."

There was a silence, and Maggie made her way over to put her arms around Niles, too.

Fighting to hold back tears, he hugged them both, "I will miss you three. Very much."

"We'll miss you too, Niles," Grace sniffed, before letting go. Maggie also released him, and they stood back to he could pick up his belongings. He then headed for the door, but was stopped by Brighton clearing his throat.

The boy put his hand out for Niles to shake, "Take care of yourself, Niles."

Niles took it, and smiled, "I will, Master Brighton."

He let go of the boy's hand, and again turned towards the door. Fran had opened it, and was waiting for him there. As he came up the step, she pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned.

"Call me when you've found a place, okay?" feeling him nod against her shoulder, she pulled away, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and resting her hands on his shoulders to look him in the face. "This isn't over."

"I had a feeling you might say that," he couldn't help but smirk a little, despite the heavy weight he felt inside.

"Yeah, because it's true," there was a pause, and she patted his arm gently and sighed. "I suppose ya better get going."

Niles nodded silently, took one last look around at the family – even glancing momentarily into the back, at the closed doors to the office – and turned to head out. He stepped over the threshold, passed through the entryway, and made his way onto the step outside.

It was done gently, but he didn't think he'd ever heard a louder, more echoing sound than that of the front door closing.

It took all the willpower in the world to not look back.

It took more than that to not turn tail and run back to his former employer, begging forgiveness. He'd done it before. It would be so _easy_ to do it again. And they were friends, really; Mr. Sheffield wouldn't just cast a friend out of his life, especially not a _lifelong_ friend.

But then he remembered the words " _not a part of this family_ ", and images of the two of them growing up together, to university, to the first Sheffield wedding, to the births of the children, all the way to the present day, were gone.

No. Maxwell Sheffield had gone _too_ far this time. And if the years they'd spent together meant nothing to him, then Niles was going to be damn sure that they didn't affect _him_ , either. He'd still keep in contact with Fran, of course, and maybe ask about the children now and again, but that was it.

He picked up his case, drew in a breath to quell the stinging sensation in his chest, and stepped out onto the pavement. There was a momentary pause, and the former butler blinked.

What now?

He looked up and down the road. No taxis. He'd have to walk to get one, but…where did he want it to _take_ him?

A place to stay; that was probably the best place to begin. He started walking.


	2. Something Missing

**Hey, everybody! I'm finally done with the next chapter. This one is all C.C.'s point of view, so hopefully that will make up for her distinct absence from the first chapter. Unfortunately, this time Niles is absent (as is a lot of dialogue), so I'm still not completely satisfied. But that might just be me, I don't know. Anyway, I hope you like it.**

 **As always, I don't own The Nanny, or any of the characters or settings portrayed here.**

* * *

She didn't get it. She'd rang the doorbell several times now, and knocked twice as much, and still nothing. One thing was for certain; the butler was in for it the minute she got the other side of that door. If he was behind this, which was almost a certainty. Even if he wasn't, she'd find some excuse. The fact that she'd had to go early to the theatre to deal with incompetent actors instead of coming straight to work, then fighting the traffic to get to the mansion which ended up setting her even _further_ behind schedule, and _then_ being denied access to her place of work by an overweight, middle-aged servant who thought himself a comedian was a pretty good excuse, she thought.

Thankfully, after some time and a quick check around the side of the house, C.C. found the door to the kitchen unlocked. It was no doubt part of Hazel's plan all along, for some as-of-yet inexplicable reason.

He didn't appear to be around, at any rate. Then again, neither did anybody else, if her unanswered trademark greeting was anything to go by.

She marched through the kitchen and the dining room, straight to the living room, expecting the punchline to Niles' joke with every step. Whatever he had in store, she silently vowed, her retribution would be worse, for making her stand outside for so long.

But the living room was empty, too. That was weird. No Nanny Fine, no kids, nothing. Well, it was a weekday so the youngest was probably at school and the older two were…C.C. didn't know, she didn't even care. And Nanny Fine was probably out shopping, or getting her hair done, or doing something else that a newly rich housewife would do. Again, she didn't care.

Well, at least it meant she could get to the office unopposed. She found her boss at his desk, apparently having not heard somebody knocking and ringing his doorbell, going through some unfamiliar-looking paperwork. A quick glance brought up the words "price of repair" and the address of the mansion, at which point she lost whatever interest she'd previously had.

"Morning, Maxwell. Where _is_ Niles? I had to let myself in through the kitchen this morning."

It wasn't like she _really_ cared where the Scrub Brush was either, but if she could drop him in it with Maxwell by suggesting that he hadn't been doing his duties (opening the front door, for instance), then everything that had happened that morning would be worth it. But Maxwell didn't even look up from the form he was busy studying.

"Niles is no longer in my employment, C.C.. I fired him yesterday, and he left soon after."

The blonde woman blinked, taking a small step back, "You… _fired_ him?"

For the first time in ages, it suddenly occurred to C.C. that she hadn't been to church in a while, and that she could probably find time to stop off on her way home. She must have zoned out for a moment, because the next thing she knew, Maxwell was out of his chair and waving a hand in front of her face. She jumped.

"…Are you…feeling alright, C.C.?" he blinked, a concerned look on his features.

"Oh, yeah – I just…remembered I have to thank somebody for something later…" still half in a daze, she seated herself on the green loveseat, and opened her bag to bring out the paperwork she'd managed to coerce the actors down at the theatre into signing.

The silence after she'd spoken – the lack of an inappropriate comment about who she had to thank and what _for_ – grated a little on her nerves.

However, it did so only for a moment, and she didn't let it show as she began to prepare the days' workload (about a dozen plays to be read, and three new contracts to negotiate). She knew there'd been a rhythm to her banter with Niles, but that was clearly over now. There was no point in dwelling on it. It might mean she could get some _actual_ work done, and get some peace of mind around the place. Both of those things would be a godsend after all the years spent having to watch herself, lest she become the butt of Niles' latest joke.

He'd probably make some comment about the word "butt" being the operative word in that sentence.

But that was irrelevant. He was out of the picture now, and success and a calm atmosphere ranked _high_ above his lowbrow form of wit, in her mind.

Yeah. Things could only get better from here.

* * *

Several hours and a not even half-complete workload later, things weren't yet any better. If anything, something felt even _more_ off than it did when C.C. had first heard the news. The nearest feeling she could compare it to being like was that one time Maxwell and the children had been out of the state for a week, and she had been left to run the office by herself. It turned out that Niles had taken the time to move all the furniture in the office several inches to the left, so that she'd bump into it every time she tried to move around. The only difference between that feeling then and the feeling _now_ was a distinct lack of bruised toes, legs, and hips.

Forgetting all about awkward or off feelings, it was certainly already proving more of a distraction than any one of Niles' stupid pranks. Any time she said something, for instance, she'd leave gaps for interjections that never came. She'd been waiting for a sarcastic reply to her comment about bars in a particular musical number, when she realised she hadn't been paying attention to Maxwell telling her he was leaving her in charge of the work so that he could focus on making arrangements for a new butler.

She must have made some noise of acceptance or acknowledgement because when she came out of it, Maxwell was out the office door, asking about where the newspaper had got to so he could get the number to place a 'wanted' ad. In the distance, she heard something like the sound of the front door closing, and then Maxwell being greeted by a shrill voice. Nanny Fine was back, and C.C. could already feel the rest of the day's already somewhat limited productivity slipping away, so she took the opportunity to put down the files she'd been having to read and re-read because the words hadn't sunk in the first time, and break for lunch.

The Sheffields were heading upstairs as she exited the office. She didn't really want to know what for, but they seemed to be talking about a door handle and hiring somebody to come fix it, and suddenly the repair bill thing made sense. It didn't make it any more interesting to C.C., but it made sense. She left them to it, and made her way through to the kitchen.

"Hey, Bu-" she stopped herself just short of demanding something to eat from an empty room as she pushed open the swinging door. Instead she sighed, and went over to inspect the contents of the fridge. A few leftovers from what appeared to be a Chinese takeout, but she wasn't _that_ desperate for food, so she only grabbed a bottle of water and took it to the counter.

She leaned against the edge, opened the bottle, and took a sip. It was a weird force of habit that she'd taken the water – because everybody drank from the bottles stored there, it was the only thing she'd touch which Niles didn't try to mess with. But now she could have coffee whenever she wanted, not just when a pot had been brewed for more than one person, without the fear of dishwater or a gym sock as an extra ingredient.

No more having to shout at him, either, for playing such an awful prank...and no more arguments to lead to witty one-liners flying back and forth between them…

It was then that it really began to dawn on her just how quiet the kitchen was. No, not just the kitchen – the entire _house_. C.C. let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, and her shoulders slumped. God, it was like there'd been a death.

Suddenly, her face contorted in confusion, and she put her bottle down on the counter-top heavily, spilling water. Crap, where the hell had all _that_ come from?

Here she was, moping around the house, unable to focus on anything _actually_ important and finally comparing Niles' absence to a _death_. What was the _matter_ with her today?! She paced a bit, trying to calm herself, and to think everything over rationally.

The butler wasn't dead; he was just gone, having finally got his comeuppance – and good riddance, too. To him _and_ to his stupid tricks.

Her state of mind today was probably just a phase, she told herself. A reaction to being told the news, nothing more. She was just over-thinking it, because it was still fresh in her mind.

Yeah. She just wasn't used to it. That was all.

She'd be over it in a day or two.


	3. Situations Vagrant

**Hi, everyone! I've finally decided to bite the bullet and upload the next chapter. I've been working on this one and the next one for some while and was hoping to upload both at the same time (I promise, this is the last chapter for a while in which there will be no interaction between Niles and C.C.), but unfortunately life and university got in the way, so I've only got this one for now. However, I'm out of uni until August (when I have to leave for the US), so I can make time to keep going on this. I'm really glad that everyone I've spoken to and all the people who've reviewed have been enjoying it so far. I wanted to thank you all, because nothing soothes my chronic anxiety like a good review.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny. There would be quite a number of differences if I did.**

* * *

A week later, with a new butler settled in at the Sheffield mansion and C.C. on leave after a phenomenal amount of protest – because she "hadn't been herself since she'd heard the news", as Maxwell had put it – Fran was nowhere near ready to give up her cause of getting Niles back. That particular morning, she was gearing herself up to try discussing it with her husband again, and was on her way to the office from the kitchen, where the newest member of the household had just made her breakfast.

It didn't matter how good this new guy's scrambled eggs were, or how well the household got along with him, or how much he seemed to enjoy his profession, it just wasn't the same. Getting a new butler didn't replace a friend.

The door to the office was wide open, and Fran could see her husband at his desk, reading a copy of the _New York Times_. The surface of the desk, usually containing forms and other assorted pieces of paper, was still clean and paper-free, the way it had been for the duration of Miss Babcock's absence so far. Maxwell didn't look up as his wife came in. That wasn't the best sign she could've hoped for, considering he had been in a temperamental state of mind for the last few days. It was clear that whatever had gone on between him and Niles was still upsetting him, even if he did try to hide it.

But the door _had_ been left open, so Fran took it as an indication that he might be willing to talk. She crossed the room and took her usual seat on the edge of the desk, hoping a sweet tone of voice and a certain amount of affection might coax him into listening to what she had to say. She leaned over a little on the desk, in order to better see his face, and offered a small smile.

"Sweetie, are you _completely_ certain you won't change your mind about giving Niles his job back?"

Fran thought she saw Maxwell visibly stiffen, but it was only for a moment. He sighed, but didn't look up as he answered.

"I'm sorry, darling, but as I have told you already at _least_ four times; I am perfectly happy with Lawrence," the producer turned a page over in the paper. "He's polite, he's good enough at his work, and most importantly, _he doesn't presume to tell me how things should be around here_."

His wife's smile dissolved into a frown. Thinking it might be dangerous ground to try and bring up the subject of his own fragile mood (and the suggestion that he might feel better if he talked about what was on his mind), Fran changed her planned tactics ever so slightly.

"But…what about Miss Babcock? Don't you need her ta help you with work? You _did_ say that she hadn't been actin' herself."

To most people who'd seen C.C. since she'd found out, "hadn't been herself" was an understatement. But Maxwell shook his head, and gave a small dismissive wave in his wife's direction.

"C.C. will be fine; she _is_ an adult, Fran," he flicked over another page and scanned the articles, not appearing to actually read anything. "It's just lucky she had some vacation time due. She can be getting it out of her system while we don't have any shows to put on."

Fran took a look at the unnaturally clean state of the desk. She was about to argue that the reason they didn't have any shows to put on _might_ be because one half of the company had been given the week off in order to deal with a butler-shaped void in her life, but could see _that_ leading to a conversation in which the name "Miss Fine" was used. Instead she sighed, slipped off the desk, and retreated back to the living room. She wasn't considering this a defeat. Not yet. As much as her husband seemed to be sure of his decision, she was still adamant she could change his mind. It wasn't happening right that _moment_ , but he'd come around eventually. Whenever he stopped stewing over whatever had happened between the two men to make her husband so irritable.

She seated herself in front of the television, but her mind was far from the images that flashed on the screen.

If _only_ she could get hold of where Niles was – it had been a week, and she hadn't heard a thing from him. Had he found a place to live? A job? She glanced over her shoulder, towards the phone. Why hadn't he called her yet? At the risk of sounding overprotective of a full-grown man, the city was huge and anything could've happened to him. But she wasn't about to go sending out search parties or anything like that; he said he'd call her, so she'd just have to take his word for it. He was probably just busy trying to retain his pride.

She just hoped he was okay, wherever he was.

* * *

He knew the minute he walked out that office door, he hadn't got the job. He wasn't fully sure how; maybe it was in the body language of the supermarket manager (checking his watch and the occasional yawn could _never_ be a good sign). It could have been the confidence he'd failed to display by stumbling over his words. Or perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't got any references.

Anyway, one insincere "We'll call you." and a closed door later, Niles had another 'wanted' ad job prospect to cross off the list of interviews for. The newspaper he'd been carrying had more red ink on it than black at this point. For a lot of these places, he was simply overqualified. Some of the jobs had gone before he'd even made it there. And for at least two of them, the employers seemed to think he was insulting them somehow, and it took de-escalation of tension on his part before he could leave with any semblance of pride intact. It wasn't his fault he just happened to be better educated than they were; it wasn't as if he'd _tried_ to point it out. It had just sort of…happened.

Niles sighed to himself as he went back out onto the supermarket floor, replacing the pen in his pocket as he moved. He'd been in one profession too long, and now that he was no longer employed, he was finding it near impossible to find another job.

At least when he eventually did it might help him to get a proper apartment, instead of living out of the first YMCA building the taxi had driven past. He had promised himself that he would only stay there a few days, two or three at most, just while he got his bearings and found somewhere more permanent to live. But it was coming close to being over a week, and he was still no closer to finding anywhere. That was the unfortunate thing about most landlords he'd come across; each and every one of them turned him down in favour of somebody who already worked. It wasn't exactly difficult to work out why, though. It was obvious that they'd prefer the idea of someone who could afford to pay the first months' worth of rent up front, and could continue to pay for the foreseeable future.

He also supposed that his standards in that department – as well as a few others – were probably slightly unrealistic.

A job he was qualified to do, where the employer knew him well enough (or at least understood him well enough) to know that he'd work hard despite his occasionally flippant demeanour, and where his level of education was either a requirement or not an issue at all. _That_ was the job he had to find.

Unfortunately, it also described the one he'd just left.

Niles quickly brushed aside the thought of leaving the Sheffields, and tried to concentrate his feelings elsewhere as he looked around at the produce on the shelves. He wasn't finding a job in this store, at any rate. Perhaps he could find something to eat, instead. He had a little cash on him which should be enough to cover the cost of some form of lunch. It wouldn't be much, but it would have to do, and it wasn't like he was very hungry anyway. Perhaps he could pick up another newspaper whilst he was there, too, and distract himself with another column full of jobs that he might get, if he was quick enough about it.

He needed one soon, too, if he was to have any kind of dignity in the near future.

Not the immediate future, it turned out, as he rounded the corner of the aisle.

Only to spot Miss Babcock heading in his direction.


	4. The Reunion

**Hi, everyone! Here's the next chapter. At last, Niles and C.C. are going to interact, too! I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or anything related to it.**

* * *

"Well, well, well…look what the unemployment line coughed up."

Damn. She'd spotted him. Admittedly, ducking quickly back around the corner, turning away, and feigning interest in the shelves wasn't the best plan he'd ever had. But it had been worth a shot. Niles sighed, mentally prepared himself for the abject humiliation he was no doubt about to endure, and turned back to look at her.

Her body language was the same as ever; standing tall and proud behind her shopping cart. But behind the same triumphant smirk she always wore whenever she thought (correctly or not) that she'd bested him, something different was there, too. Niles studied her face carefully...If just what he could see was anything to go by, she seemed almost _pleased_ that she'd run into him.

Pleased at his state of misfortune, no doubt. He straightened his back and puffed out his chest a little.

"I've just come from an interview if you must know, so there are _no_ unemployment lines in my vicinity. And, speaking of things that look like they've been coughed up; hello, Miss Babcock."

"Did I hear it right when you said you had an interview today? That means you got to try your old and _extremely_ worn out stuff on a completely new crowd!" she paused, and then pointed a finger at him. "I bet you tried some of those gags you sometimes make, too."

She burst into a loud cackle, clapping her hands together at her own joke. Niles' deadpan expression didn't change. It was almost like he hadn't been away at all.

"Yes…" he glanced down into her cart, actually eager to change the subject, "What brings you here, anyway? I always assumed your home meals came both freshly bloodied _and_ off altar slabs."

Wiping the last tear of mirth from her eye, C.C. chose to ignore his comment, and glanced down at what he presumed was a shopping list clutched in her hand.

"I usually get my shopping over the phone, but some stupid jackass at the company who makes the deliveries left my address off the list, so I'm having to do it myself."

Niles sensed an opportunity to claim that it probably wasn't the _only_ thing C.C. had ever had to do by herself, but chose to keep silent. Having her around after a week on his own was actually proving to be a reasonable distraction from his other problems.

So much so that he decided to join her for a while on her shop. But it wasn't long before the two got to talking about Niles' living situation.

"I've found myself a nice little place, an apartment," of course, he had to embellish. There was no way he could tell her where he was _actually_ staying, "it's cosy, really, and the neighbours are good people, we help each other out a lot."

C.C. didn't even look away from browsing the cereals, "You're staying at the Y, aren't you?"

He paused momentarily, his voice failing him for a second. He should have known; the woman practically had a sixth sense for his hardships, why should this one be any different?

Physically but not metaphorically holding his breath, Niles answered, "Yes, I am."

The blonde woman burst out laughing again, causing several shoppers nearby to stare. Niles frowned, beginning to clench his fists.

"You really _are_ enjoying my hard luck, aren't you?" he asked bitterly.

"No! Well, yes, but I was only laughing because I'm just _not surprised_. I'd never imagine you splashing out on a room in some hotel which could be anything upwards of…what," the producer shrugged as she thought it over, "fifteen dollars a night?"

She might have been taking his mind off having no job and nowhere to live, but it would be a cold day in Hell before he told her how frantically he'd been trying to find either of those things. He might as well stick his hand in a tray of raw meat, leave it there for a while, and then offer it to a pack of wolves.

No, better cheap than desperate.

That was actually a phrase he might keep for future reference.

"Demonstrating your distinct lack of knowledge on the value of money for most people, I see," Niles affected a sneer, but avoided looking directly at her as they turned into the next aisle. "For your information, even the cheapest hotel rooms cost more than _that_ in the city, and getting a room somewhere inexpensive happens to be a better option. It means I can stay there longer, until I find an apartment."

"Oh, you're actually looking for a _real_ apartment?" at this point, he could almost swear C.C. was genuinely interested.

"Yes," he began to browse the shelves himself, picking up a packet in order to study the contents on the back. "But unfortunately, it seems most landlords want to know you're going to have a stable income. Savings don't count for much if you run out."

He tried to be casual about mentioning it. If Miss Babcock picked up on even the slightest hint of worry in his tone, then he'd be done for. He began to panic that he _was_ done for, because when he looked up at her, she was studying him, a thoughtful look on her face. Niles replaced the item on the shelf, blinking.

"What?" he asked, hoping the look on her face would give away what she was about to say.

The blonde folded her arms, "Alright, because I'm feeling generous today, and because the chance to annoy you at all hours is _far_ too great to pass up, I'll suggest this: you come and – I use the term _incredibly_ loosely here – work for me."

Well, _that_ was a curve ball.

" _Me_ , work for _you_?" he took a slight step back. "What on God's earth do you imagine I'd say yes for?"

The producer seemed to consider for a moment, "Ten dollars an hour, free room and board, and weekends off?"

Niles' jaw dropped, "That's what I'd get?"

C.C.'s eyes darted across the new shelves until she found what she was looking for – a can of soup – and she picked it up.

"No, that's what I imagine you'd say 'yes' for," she checked the label on the can, accepted whatever she'd read, and dropped it into her cart. She then crossed something off her list. "How about we start with the room and board and go from there?"

She returned to pushing her cart along, heading for the end of the aisle. Niles, having been momentarily stunned, came back to reality and dashed to catch up with her.

"What, you mean I wouldn't even be _paid_?"

The Broadway producer shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not straight _away_. Consider it a trial period," C.C. stopped and looked back at him, batting her eyes and smirking. "And really, are you in any _real_ position to refuse free meals and a room in exchange for housework?"

Niles opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it again. He was loathe to admit how right she was. It wasn't like anybody else was hiring him, and he had already been starting to consider selling some of his clothes in order to pay for essentials. Just yesterday he'd caught the sleeve of one of his jackets on a fence and had no money to spare for sewing supplies. Every little bit of wear and tear was just going to cost him more, and the weather would get cold soon – what would he do when he needed warmer clothes, or what would happen if he needed to take a cab instead of walking?

He was about to answer, when C.C.'s eyes shifted and seemed to narrow on a point on his torso.

She blinked, "What is that?"

"What's what?"

She nodded once at his chest, "That – on your shirt."

Niles' gaze followed her eye line, down to his shirt pocket. And to the spreading red ink stain, where he must have pushed his pen too hard against the lining, causing it to explode. His hands fumbled at the spreading fluid as it seeped into his shirt fabric.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

He let his hands drop back to his sides with a defeated sigh. What excellent timing, he thought to himself. Just when he thought he was having a bad enough day as it was, _this_ came along as an impromptu reminder that things could always get worse.

But he still had to give an answer to Miss Babcock's proposition. He would have asked what the catch was, or why she even _needed_ a butler in the first place, but he supposed there was no point in fighting it. It was either take this on (consequences involving loss of dignity simply be damned) and hope she didn't go back on her offer, or keep looking for a job which may or may not come, and pray every night he still had enough money for the next morning.

That settled it. As demeaning as this would be, it still came with a place to live, which didn't come with rent he couldn't afford.

He looked up at the more than slight smug expression on her face, gritted his teeth, and took an almost painfully deep breath.

"Can I start Monday?"

C.C. smiled, "Help me with this shop, and you can start right away. We'll swing by the shelter-"

Niles began to correct her, "The building-"

She held up one hand to silence him.

"Don't talk back to your new boss. We'll swing by the shelter and you can pick up your things on our way back. In the meantime," she tapped the cart full of items, "you can help me with these."

Huffing out a breath, Niles nodded. Together, they began to walk, when suddenly, C.C. stopped again, causing Niles to almost bump into her. She pointed at his shirt.

"Actually, first things first: do something about that stupid pen stain. I expect my staff to look presentable."

Grimacing and grumbling under his breath, Niles took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, he wrapped up the remains of the pen inside and put both back in his trousers. He then straightened out his jacket and buttoned it up, covering the offending blotch.

"Is this better?" he held out his arms mockingly for inspection.

"Hm…" C.C. looked him up and down with a grin. "Ideally, I'd cover your _face_ , too. But I suppose you can only deal with one ugly blemish at a time, right?"

"I'm dealing with _you_ right _now_ , aren't I?" Niles smirked for an instant, but returned to a neutral expression. "But if you don't mind, can we _please_ just get on with the shopping?"

The producer's grin faded away, but whatever she was thinking, she kept it to herself.

"Okay, then. For starters, I could see the look on your face at the things I've put in the cart," she beckoned him around to the side of the cart, looking down at her shopping. "You obviously don't agree for some reason, so what would you suggest instead?"

Niles reached into the cart and pulled out a can of mixed vegetables and a microwavable packet that seemed to contain chicken and rice. He doubted the contents of either container looked like the meals on the packaging.

'"Well, for one thing, these ridiculous cans and microwavable meals have to go. I know that, like you, they're quick and easy-"

"I'm sorry, but what was that about getting on with the grocery shopping?" C.C. snapped. "Unlike _some_ people, I _do_ have other things to do today."

"Forgive me for taking an opportunity, but alright. Fine," the butler replaced his held items in the cart. "Let's make this shopping trip a do-over, and go around again. If you push the cart, I'll pick out the produce."

There was a moment of silence as C.C. thought this over.

"Alright," she began pushing the cart again, and the pair turned into the middle aisle.

There was silence for a few moments, before she glanced at him again, and smirked.

"Bet you're glad to be back on the job, huh, Butler Boy?"

Niles made no comment. Inside, he was busy wondering just what he'd managed to get himself into.


	5. The Lady's Gentleman

**Hi, everyone. I'm sorry for the wait for this chapter but last time I published, I was fast approaching the deadline for my coursework and that took priority. It also didn't really help that I write in a really weird order, so I'll write parts of different chapters in whichever order they occur to me, rather than chronologically. That left this chapter mostly unwritten for a long time, while other parts later in the story got further developed. Anyway, it's finished now. It's mostly a filler, sort of like a 'settling in' chapter which sets things up for later plot points. I'm sure I could have done better, but I do hope you enjoy it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, any of the characters, or settings, etc.**

* * *

It was about a twenty minute drive to the building Niles had called home for the past week. Neither spoke very much on the journey; only at the beginning, when they had left the store and C.C. had insisted that Niles be the one to drive – he was the servant, after all. The butler hadn't complained (much), because he knew the route and supposed it would be more efficient than having to give her directions.

Luckily, there was a very convenient parking space right outside the building when they pulled up. He switched off the engine, and they sat there in silence for a moment, each slightly glancing at the other.

"Well, we're here…" Niles began, turning more fully to look at her.

The producer rolled her eyes at him in reply, "I can see _that_ for myself!"

They both stared at each other, until C.C. realised what he wanted, and scoffed.

"Oh, no…You think I'm gonna come up with you and help move your stuff? Please, Niles! For one thing, I'm your employer now and employers don't help _the help_ with their personal affairs. And second, by the time we both got back down, the _car_ wouldn't be here."

"Depending on the kindness of strangers as usual are we, Miss DuBois?" he deadpanned. "No one is going to steal your car, and you know it. Even the most desperate criminals have _far_ better taste."

"Are you going to sit there talking all day, or are you going to get your stuff?" the producer undid her seatbelt and prepared to open the passenger door. "If we switch places, I can keep the engine running. We can get the hell out of here as soon as you're back."

Niles smirked, "Eager to have me all to yourself, eh?"

"Eager to not be seen in public with you, is more like it," C.C. snapped. "Now get going."

Niles' smirk faded into a frown. He unclicked his seatbelt and pulled at the handle on the driver's side door.

"As you wish."

He left her to climb into the driver's seat, slamming the car door a little harder than necessary as he exited the vehicle and headed for the entrance to the building.

* * *

Soon, the two were both back in the car, bound for C.C.'s apartment. A short ride in the elevator later, and they were stood at the entrance to the penthouse as the producer brought out her keys to unlock the door. Just as she was about to, she paused.

"Oh, yeah; if you're living here, you'll probably need this."

Reaching down and feeling under the doormat, she brought out a spare key and, noticing his hands were full with the shopping bags and his luggage, tucked it into his jacket pocket.

"I'd say keep it with your other keys, but it's not like you have a car, or a house, so maybe you should just keep it in your pocket instead. Or maybe if you feel like letting the moths out, you could open up your wallet and keep it in there," she smiled sweetly, and condescendingly patted the place where she'd put the key.

Niles' unimpressed expression didn't waver, and he shifted the weight of the bags around in his closed fingers, "We all know how hard it is for you to talk and complete menial tasks at the same time, so perhaps you should pay less attention to the state of my belongings and more to opening the door."

The smile dropped from C.C.'s face. Without another word, she turned her back to him and opened the door.

Chester looked at them as they both walked in, blinked, and then sauntered away. He gave no appearance of caring that his owner had just come home. Frowning, but otherwise unperturbed, C.C. slipped her jacket onto a hook on the wall, tossed her keys into a glass bowl off to one side, and stepped into the living room. Niles shut the front door behind them.

The blonde ran a hand through her hair, "Right, well, I might as well give you a tour of the place. I suppose you're gonna need to know where everything is."

She took her time explaining a few things, including rules she expected him to follow (but he probably wouldn't if he could help it), and pointing in the directions of both the main bathroom and her bedroom, which were off to different sides of the living room. She then beckoned for him to follow her through another door, and started her explanations as he looked around.

"This is the kitchen-"

"You don't say!" he interrupted, feigning surprise. "I could've _sworn_ it was a library."

"You might wanna put a lid on the sarcasm, Hazel. It's also where you're gonna be eating your meals," she clicked her fingers at the shopping bags. "Speaking of which, you need to put those groceries away."

With a low grumble in the back of his throat, Niles began to do so, settling the bags down on the floor and starting to go through them. He thought over what the producer had said whilst checking the produce had survived the journey intact, and he took another look around as something became apparent.

"Wait a minute…if I have to eat in here, does that mean I don't even get to eat at a table?"

"There _are_ counters in here; grab a chair and improvise," C.C. shrugged, sipping a bottle of water she'd taken from one of the bags. "All the servants back at home ate in the kitchen, and that's the way it's gonna stay."

For a split second, Niles was reminded of his argument with Maxwell. It soon went away, though. The shock of having the servant-employer barrier shoved in his face been greater when it had come from his oldest friend. He downright _expected_ this sort of treatment from Miss Babcock. She herself stayed around the kitchen in order to direct where the rest of the items went, claiming that she didn't want to have to go traipsing through all her cupboards just to look for something specific. He'd replied that it was highly unlikely she'd be scrambling around looking desperately for anything in _there_ – he'd already seen the liquor cabinet, and it was in the living room.

Ignoring him, C.C. leaned against the counter and grinned as her dog wandered into the room and over to his water bowl.

"Hey Chester, meet your new dining buddy," the producer looked up quickly, as though just remembering something. "Oh, yeah. He'll need walking later, too. You'll find his leash and some bags by the door. He likes the public gardens on the corner, at the end of the street."

Niles thought about replying that to Chester's tiny legs, the public gardens at the end of the street probably seemed like miles between himself and his owner, so no wonder he liked them. But he decided to keep quiet. Instead, he remembered a question he'd had to himself in the supermarket, and was feeling slightly more secure in his new role now that he'd been given a series of tasks to do. He looked up at her in order to gauge her reaction, keeping his voice level to present the appearance of casual conversation.

"Why do you even _need_ a butler anyway? Doesn't someone come here to clean every few days?"

"She quit a while ago. Something about life being too short, and all that crap," there was a momentary pause while the producer took another sip from her water bottle. "I hadn't got around to hiring anyone else when I ran into you."

He never would have guessed that was the answer by how clean the living room had appeared when he'd walked through. It looked almost as though Miss Babcock had taken great care to present her home as though it wasn't lived in at all. But he supposed that would only make his job easier, even if there was a hint of dread at the possibility that she'd make his life a living hell in some fashion _other_ than giving him an endless list of things to do around the penthouse.

He finished putting the last of the shopping away in a lower cupboard, and made to stand up. When he was half-way to being on his feet, C.C. stopped him.

"Oh, before you get up, there's some things you'll need, under the sink," she pointed towards where she meant.

Sighing to himself, Niles got to his knees and opened the cupboard. On one side contained an empty laundry basket, the other a large plastic tub filled with cleaning implements. Grabbing the basket with one hand, and holding the tub firmly against his side with his other arm, he carefully stood up. Miss Babcock had already left when he looked around, so he made his way back into the living room, where she was waiting.

He followed her to the other end of the penthouse, to a smaller series of rooms. The producer pointed out her office, a storage closet, and the utility room on the way, until they stopped in front of a closed door in the corner of the apartment.

"My office _was_ the second bedroom, but luckily this place is supposed to sleep three, so you've got the guestroom," the producer indicated towards the door as she opened it. "I must warn you, though; it's the only room in the place I ever told the cleaning service not to bother with."

Niles took a look around at the space as the door opened. He _supposed_ it could be a guestroom. Or, at least, that's what its original intention was. Underneath the layer of dust covering each and every surface, he could see a bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe. Piled on what appeared to be a writing desk and the chair that went with it were various cardboard boxes, some open, some sealed with tape and marked with words like "Misc." and "Clutter". Similar boxes were stacked on the bed, by the wardrobe, and around the door.

The butler blinked, "Don't come in here often, do you?"

"Only when I need a space to dump more old, unwanted stuff," the blonde leaned in the doorway. "That's why it's perfect for _your_ room."

"Really? I thought your bed was where most old, unwanted stuff got dumped," ignoring C.C.'s scowl, he shifted the container so it better rested against his chest. "Doesn't this building have a storage facility of some kind?"

"It's down in the basement, but I don't have the time to make as many trips as it would take to clear this whole room. Besides, my mother always told me, "Never do something in your spare time that a servant _should_ be doing in his work time"."

"She sounds like a delight."

The blonde made no reply to his sarcasm, though there was something in her face which told Niles that she wanted to agree with him. She didn't bring it up, instead choosing to change the subject.

"You might want to start your employment by cleaning up in here," she tapped the plastic container. "That's why you'll need these."

Niles edged round her to step into the room, "How thoughtful of you."

"And after that, you'll need to do a load of laundry. Including – or, should I say _especially_ – your own," she swept a critical gaze over him, "after all, ink stains don't come out by themselves, and you look like you've been shot. I'll be in my office."

"Very well. I'll leave you to it," it was then his turn to look _her_ up and down, "after all, the End of Days don't plan themselves, and _you_ look like the Antichrist."

The producer's sneer dulled into a line, and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Need I remind you whose home you're living in now?" C.C. turned on her heel and disappeared back into the living room, calling over her shoulder. "Just watch yourself, Scrub Brush. And don't forget about walking Chester later. We'll discuss lunch and dinner arrangements when you get back."

Niles decided not to waste energy shouting something back at her. There was enough to do currently without any added distractions. He put the basket and the cleaning supplies down by the door, and glanced around him. Making a decision on where to begin, he carefully crossed the room to the window and opened it. He was greeted with the sounds of New York traffic in the streets far below. It wouldn't remove all the dust, but getting the air circulating the room again was a good start, even if it was inner city air and probably just as easy to breathe as if he'd left it closed.

Taking off his jacket, he knew he really had to set to work now.

He cleared off the chair at the desk, picked up the nearest box, groaning at its weight, and settled himself on the seat with the box in his lap. No wonder the thing had been so heavy – when he opened it, he discovered that the entire container was filled to the brim with different sized picture frames. Niles stared at them curiously. Each and every one was empty. No photographs, or paintings, nothing at all. No notes on the back to suggest what they might have displayed, either.

Well, that was at least _one_ box that could go straight into storage. He closed up the lid. Bracing himself, he stood up with the box and took it outside, placing it to one side by his bedroom door. He did the same for each one, opening and checking the contents to see which were headed for the basement, and which for the building's garbage chute. Most were old ornaments that Miss Babcock had obviously declared too tacky to be displayed. They'd evidently been given to her as gifts over the years by backers, or other anonymous people she didn't care about. He doubted she'd miss any of them, and half of them were broken, anyway. Several trips back and forth later, and the room was clear. Now it was time to actually start cleaning the place.

Beneath where the boxes had been resting, the bed was still made. Well, it had been, before the boxes had left creases in the sheets. Apart from the dust, they were clean, too. They'd still have to be washed and replaced with fresh ones, though. Luckily, the dust layer didn't extend to inside the wardrobe, where he found some fresh sheets. God only knows how long they'd been there, but they'd have to do. Maybe, going on the slim chance he was _ever_ going to get a day off, he could try to find somewhere that sold completely new ones. He remade the bed, putting on the new sheets, and dumped the old ones into the laundry basket.

His next job was slightly easier; taking the polish from the cleaning supplies and dusting down every surface. The dust rags would have to go in their own wash, too, but they could wait. There were higher priorities on the laundry list at that precise moment. That in turn reminded him to open his suitcase, take out a clean shirt to change into, and toss the dirty one into the laundry basket. He'd give cleaning the shirt a try, but it was probably ruined. Ink never fully came out, and in this case it had completely dried, too. Once the rest of his clothes were unpacked and put away, he stood back to look around the room.

It wasn't exactly the Ritz. In fact, it was probably on-par with his room at the YMCA, with the added humiliation of having to wait on C.C. Babcock in order to keep it, and all the work he'd just finished to get it that way. But he supposed all that really mattered for now was that it was liveable, and as long as the producer's mood suited her, it wasn't going anywhere.

Figuring he could gather a load of laundry to put in, take the dog for a walk, and then come back just in time for it to finish, he pulled his jacket back on, picked up the cleaning supplies and the laundry basket, and turned to head back into the living room.


	6. Dinner for One

**Hey, everybody! I've finally managed to complete the next two chapters of this story, so immediately after I've published this one, I'll get on with publishing Chapter Seven, too! I'm really glad that so many of you have written reviews to say how much you've been enjoying reading this, so I hope you like these next two chapters, too.**

 **Disclaimer: as always, I don't own The Nanny, or any of its characters, or any places mentioned in this story.**

* * *

Niles would spend most of the next few days cursing to himself whenever he got the opportunity. That seemed to be most of the time, between Miss Babcock returning to work, leaving him in the penthouse with only Chester, and the list of things she gave him to do each day. Those things most often involved going out into the city. And, of _course_ , she took her car to work with her. He didn't want to waste money when he wasn't earning anything, either, so that forced him to walk a lot of the time.

The only exception that week so far had been for one occasion; Miss Babcock's dry-cleaning. Most of the producer's things could be washed at home, but there were a few odd items which she insisted could _not_ be put in the machine with everything else, and she'd given him an address to take them to. Much to his chagrin, it was almost half-way across the city (despite the fact that he knew there were perfectly good dry-cleaners in between her apartment building and there). So he took a taxi. There was no way the woman could expect him to drag her clothes behind him all the way across New York, especially when he knew he'd have to bring them back up several flights of stairs because the day she'd picked to give him this chore just so happened the day the building's elevators were all shut off for repair work.

Every day, after everything had been done, he would crawl onto his new bed and lay there, face down, groaning. Something in the back of his mind often wondered if crawling on his hands and knees back to the Sheffields would somehow be less painful, both physically _and_ emotionally. But he reminded himself he had to be strong; this was no less than he'd expected when he'd agreed to take the job, and if he was being completely honest, there _was_ less to do at the penthouse than at the mansion. There were fewer people, which meant fewer messes to clean up after and less food for him to have to cook, and his employer was out for most of the day, which left the place practically pristine with little effort. She just gave him more to do around the city simply to get under his skin. That's all it was. When she'd had her fun with that, the load would lighten. He just hoped that would be soon – he wasn't sure how much more he could take of the aches in his limbs.

C.C., on the other hand, seemed happier than Niles had ever seen her when she was at the Sheffield Mansion. Of course, whenever they were both in the penthouse together, they still had their zingers and their pranks. Both gave just as good as they got in that regard, like always. The producer was just… _bouncier_ was the wrong word. She'd probably bounce about as well as a glass ornament would. Livelier was better. And maybe she had been a touch less unpleasant. Only a touch, though. The long lists of jobs that she gave to him each day stood as testament to the fact that she hadn't completely lost herself. But there was something new there, too. A brighter gleam than usual in her eyes when she told him that all the walking she'd been making him do was probably the most exercise he'd ever had. An amused – and totally _genuine_ – smile when he retorted that at least _one_ of them was actually _getting_ exercise, instead of the scowl she might usually give him. Nothing major, just extra touches here and there that went alongside the insults. It softened the blow, but he wasn't really sure as to why.

It was only after those first few days that he began to wonder about where this modification in behaviour had come from, and he started collecting the evidence together in his head. It all finally came together on the evening of the fifth day, whilst he was in the kitchen, preparing the producer's dinner. He settled down the knife he'd been using to chop vegetables and looked up, thinking back to the day he'd arrived.

Chester. No one, not even Miss Babcock's own _dog_ , ever came to greet her at the door at the end of the day. The guestroom. It was clearly once made up with clean sheets and fluffy pillows, but it had been left to gather dust and boxes of unwanted objects. The boxes. Those picture frames had been empty because she had no memories she wished to keep, not even those of a relative. The others had been full of unwanted objects that couldn't have cost very much, or had much thought put into them by the buyer. Just cheap trinkets, sent as gifts like a flippant afterthought.

All of it forgotten, like _she_ had been, by the backers who'd sent the gifts, and by the guest who had never come to stay.

Niles took a moment to glance out of the kitchen door, at the dining table. Seeing C.C. sat there, the place set only for one (as he had done as she'd asked, and had all his meals in the kitchen), and a half-probably-soon-to-be-completely-empty bottle of wine off to the side, he couldn't help but feel oddly _sorry_ for her.

Somewhere deep inside, underneath the vague confusion he felt at the unfamiliar sensation of pity, Niles began to feel more than a little bit guilty, especially for all of his complaining. He'd never really heard Miss Babcock mention any other people she _truly_ counted as friends, at least not by name, her family were scattered all over the place, and her only points of contact during a regular day were the people she met at work. He wasn't even going to _think_ about something like her love life, not that anything seemed to be happening in that regard. And not that he particularly cared about it, either.

But it was no wonder she'd told the cleaning lady to not bother with his room. She'd stopped hoping there'd be someone out there who would use it.

She looked after herself because nobody else was going to, or at least had done so for a very long time. All the evidence suggested why she'd perked up so much over the past few days; whether she was aware of it or not, having another person around the usually empty penthouse was taking the edge off the producer's loneliness.

Would it really be so difficult for him to at least _try_ being a proper servant to her? A few acts of courteous behaviour, perhaps?

He supposed it couldn't _hurt_ matters…Maybe, after twenty years of constant insults and arguments, it _was_ about time for a different approach. A more professional one. Maybe if he gave it a try, she'd ease up on _him_ , too.

Looking after people was what he was good at, after all.


	7. Matters of Courtesy

**And here we are.**

 **Disclaimer: again, I don't own The Nanny, any characters, places, settings, etc.**

* * *

By the time most people were starting to wake for work the next morning, Niles had already been awake for a considerable amount of time, and was feeling rather pleased with himself. His decision to attempt being a proper servant to Miss Babcock was already going swimmingly. Her breakfast was already made and the coffee already brewing (no unwanted or inedible ingredients in either the food _or_ the drink), the penthouse was already clean (thanks to a combination of having little to do in that regard, _and_ getting up slightly earlier than usual), and there was only one finishing touch left to make. He picked up the remote, switched the television on to his employer's preferred news channel, and waited for her to wake up and begin her day.

When she eventually wandered sleepily into the dining area, he greeted her with a bright "Good morning, Miss Babcock" instead of a feigned yelp of terror at the sight of her, sans makeup, in her pyjamas, and before she'd run a comb through her hair. The butler even took the time to bring the producer her mail and the morning newspaper after he'd served the food. And all throughout this, not one hurtful remark left his lips, even if C.C. tried to coax him into it; he would only reply about the amusing nature of her comment, and always refer to her by her professional title. Each of his acts of professionalism was met by a puzzled stare from the blonde woman, until half-way through reading a letter, she spoke up.

"Niles…am I dying?"

"Not that I am aware, Miss Babcock," he replied, hands tucked neatly behind his back as he waited by the table for her to finish.

The producer put down her pile of mail, and waved her hand at the table, "Then what's all…this?"

Niles blinked, and cocked his head to one side, "What's all what, Miss Babcock?"

"There you go again!" C.C. pointed at him, and then gestured to her half-empty plate. "All this morning, all you've called me is 'Miss Babcock' – no insults, no jibes, nothing! Not even when I was wandering around in my _pyjamas_ , for Pete's sake! And you've made me this breakfast; you put the salt on my bacon and scrambled eggs, and the sugar in my coffee instead of the _other way around_ , and I'd like an explanation!"

"…I'm sorry, would you have _preferred_ it the other way around, Miss Babcock?"

"No!" C.C. shouted, rising from her chair. "And would you _please_ tell me what the hell is going on with you this morning?!"

"Alright!" Niles flinched, raising his hands defensively and dropping all formalities. "There's no need to yell. I just-"

"You're not setting me up for something, are you?" the producer accused, her voice lower and more cautious, and her eyes narrowed.

"Of course not!" the butler straightened back up, pulling his at jacket to make it neat. "I happen to be a professional, and I thought I might attempt to conduct myself as such, now that I am in your service."

For almost an instant, Niles thought C.C. looked touched by his explanation. However, almost as soon as he'd noticed, it was gone.

He also thought that the producer had relaxed somewhat, but then she seemed to stiffen again and folded her arms, "…You never tried that with Maxwell."

It was minute, but he was certain that she saw him cringe at the mention of his former – and her current – employer's name. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, swallowing.

"That was different," Niles made a vague gesture with one of his hands. "The relationship you and I have is…different. And things I could have said or done at the mansion worked because I didn't work for you."

"So our…relationship…has changed because now you work for me?" the producer repeated it slowly, thinking it all out. Her expression became one of confusion, "It's been roughly a week; why are you starting this new attitude now?"

Niles looked at the floor, shrugging a little, "I suppose it's just taken me this long to come to terms with...everything."

There was a long silence.

C.C. slipped slowly back into her seat, "Well…maybe do your job professionally; the cooking, the cleaning, and everything, but don't bother with all the formal stuff – I'm not used to it from you, and it's creeping me out."

Niles took a slight step closer to the dining table, "Very well. Are you finished with your breakfast? Troughs have to be hosed down and I'd like to start quickly so I free up the rest of the day."

"…That's better," the producer nodded. "And yes, I am done."

He was about to say something else in an attempt to alleviate what tension remained, but he never got the opportunity.

That was the exact moment the news anchor on the television chose to announce that there had been an accident in the downtown area, and that it was expected to cause massive holdups for commuters. Cursing under her breath, C.C. rose from the table again, and quickly hurried away into her bedroom before the butler could say another word. He set to clearing the table and doing the dishes, as Miss Babcock set what must have been the world record for showering, dressing, putting on makeup, gathering together her work things, and then leaving.

A few minutes passed after Niles had finished putting away the clean plates and other kitchenware, before he realised something felt amiss. In her haste to leave, the producer had forgotten to give him a list of things she wanted him to do before she got home.

In truth, that wasn't _really_ too much of a problem for him; it meant that after he'd finished whatever he had left to do around the penthouse, he could probably find some time to rest and recuperate from the chores he'd done during the week. Maybe he'd re-read one of the few books he owned, and had managed to bring with him in his suitcase.

He started by taking Chester for a quick walk around the block, knowing that would take the longest amount of time, and returned to the apartment in fairly high spirits. He was thinking about starting a list for the week's shopping, when the phone rang.

Unclipping the dog from his lead, he headed for the side table where it was kept, and answered.

"Miss Babcock's residence?"

"Niles?!" a high-pitched shriek down the other end of the line greeted him.

"Mrs Sheffield!" the butler jumped so hard he almost dropped the phone. He hastily fumbled it back to his ear, "Uh…I mean, who is calling, please?"

"Niles, I've been here worried sick about you for nearly two weeks now and the first thing ya do when I find out yer not dead is pretend not ta know me?!"

It took a few minutes of calming Fran down and apologising, but Niles eventually got to explain his situation. The former nanny listened as patiently as she could, only interrupting once or twice, while the butler finished his account.

"I'm sorry I didn't call, I just didn't want anyone to see me like that."

"So, naturally, you turned to Miss Babcock."

The tone of Fran's voice was so unimpressed, Niles could almost see the deadpan expression on her face.

He shuffled his feet, in some measure relieved that Fran couldn't see him, "It wasn't exactly like that; I ran into her by pure coincidence. When she offered me a job, I just…I felt like I had no choice."

"You _do_ have a choice," she stated firmly in reply. "You could come back _here_ , where you belong!"

"I can't do that; you heard what Mr. Sheffield said to me," the butler huffed. "And, if memory serves me correct, I believe you already have a new butler?"

There was a moment of quiet before Fran replied, "How'd ya find _that_ out?"

"I've had to drive Miss Babcock to the theatre once or twice this past week," Niles leaned against the wall, using his free hand to massage a sudden ache in his neck. "She pointed him out to me when he was there, dropping off contracts for your husband."

"Oh," she sounded sheepish. Then she quickly continued, "But it's not the _same_ , Niles! Lawrence is a great help around the house, but he isn't part of the _family_."

"Neither am _I_ , remember?" he retorted drily.

"Oh, stop being so bitter! Max didn't mean what he said, and you know it."

Now it was Niles' turn to sound unimpressed, "If you don't mind, I'd rather hear that from _him_. I know you want me back, and I miss being around all of you, too, but I won't step foot in that house until I know I am fully welcome. At any rate, why are you phoning _here_?"

"Oh, right, sorry!" there was the sound of movement down the other end of the phone, probably Fran shifting to make herself more comfortable against the table. "Maxwell was wondering where Miss Babcock was. Lawrence is out on an errand so I had to call."

"Miss Babcock isn't here. She left a little while ago."

"Oh. Must be stuck in traffic," there was a brief pause, and then the former nanny continued, the mischief clear in her voice. "Though she could just get out of the car and climb over the buildings."

"That might not be a good idea; the last time she did that, she got stuck on the Empire State Building and was found swatting at planes," it was less fun making insulting remarks when the producer wasn't around to hear them, but he appreciated what she was trying to do.

There was a comfortable silence. For a moment, it was almost like the two of them were both back in the kitchen at the mansion, having coffee and not having to talk about anything in particular.

Of course Fran eventually broke it, "I haven't given up on you, ya know."

"I guessed quite as much," Niles smiled wryly. "I'm sure you're making Mr. Sheffield's life a misery over my departure."

"Every chance I get," there was commotion down the other end of the phone which sounded more like his friend had been briefly distracted. "Ooh! I've gotta get the door, sweetie. Call me more often, okay?"

"Alright, I promise."

They said their goodbyes, and Niles hung up the phone. Once it was firmly back in place, he sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead with one hand. Fran was a good friend – a better friend than he often felt he deserved – but sometimes she just didn't know when to stop herself. He'd heard himself from Miss Babcock how steamed Mr. Sheffield had seemed to get the last few days, whenever his name was mentioned. That was probably the reason she had yet to tell her business associate that she'd hired the butler. She didn't want to be the next unemployed person in the vicinity of that house. Maxwell's reaction also made Niles think that an apology from his former employer any time soon was highly unlikely.

Distracting himself from the thought, he returned to his previous task. The shopping list didn't take too long, and a load of laundry was soon underway. By the time lunch had been eaten and cleaned up after, he had nothing left to do but wait for Miss Babcock to return home.

A few hours and a couple of chapters into a book later, Niles heard the front door open and close. Then he heard his employer call out for him. He marked his page, placed his book under his pillow, and left his room.

"What is it, Miss Babcock?"

C.C. was busy rifling through her purse, "Could you come here a minute? It's important."

Her tone of voice and the fact that she hadn't moved far from the door suggested something serious. Niles felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Oh, God. This was it, wasn't it? He'd clearly overstepped some sort of mark that morning and now she was going to fire him. She _had_ left her breakfast very quickly, even for somebody who thought they might end up being late for work. Had he used certain words which sent her into a panic? He'd only used the word 'relationship' because it seemed a fairly neutral term at the time. But he knew she was guarded with her feelings; she could have been overthinking their conversation – and _that_ word – all day, and come to the decision to throw _up_ a wall, and throw _out_ a servant. He tentatively approached where she was standing.

He'd be back in his room at the YMCA before he knew it, and he'd have to start the job search all over again. Only this time, he wouldn't know anybody at all.

But the sound of tearing paper brought him back to the real world, as C.C. handed him a slip from a small booklet she'd just taken from her purse.

Not fully registering, the butler blinked at it, "What is this?"

"Your paycheque. What's it look like?" she pressed the paper more firmly into his hand. "Congratulations, Butler Boy; your trial period's over. You're full-time now."

Niles didn't know what to say. He just kept glancing back and forth between his employer and his salary, eventually resting his eyes back on the paper.

"Don't just stare at it, Niles. How about a thank you?" C.C. made a shrug-like motion, tucking several loose strands of hair behind her ear.

The butler shook himself out of his reverie, "Oh, y-yes, of course! Thank you, Miss Babcock."

"Don't spend it all in one place," she smirked, but then began to break into chuckles. "Ha…ha-ha…you, _spending_ money!"

Niles didn't have a chance to reply, before she dumped her purse on the side table and disappeared into the kitchen, still snickering to herself.

He looked down at the figure on the slip. It wasn't ungenerous, much to his surprise. In the few brief moments he'd realised he was actually going to be paid, he'd been expecting something far more like a prank – a few cents as his entire pay, a small doodle in place of an actual amount, a fake signature, that sort of thing. Instead, above Miss Babcock's perfectly correct signature, was roughly the figure he would have been paid for a week's work at the Sheffield mansion. That could only mean she must have known what Mr. Sheffield had been paying him. That probably meant she knew he'd had to work his way up to _that_ figure, too.

She could just as easily have chosen to start him from the beginning again, but she hadn't.

But he wasn't going to question why. If he did, she'd probably realise what she'd done, ask for the cheque back, and rectify her missed opportunity. He tucked the cheque into his jacket pocket, making a mental note to cash it in the morning, whilst he was out running whatever errands Miss Babcock required of him that day. He then followed her into the kitchen, intending to ask what she wanted for dinner that night.

If what he had been doing this past week had him paid an already-raised salary, he was going to carry on exactly the way he was. Well, maybe not _exactly_. Miss Babcock _had_ just decided to pay him, after all, and there were only so many ways to physically prank someone in their own home. The verbal banter would always be a fresh source of entertainment, though. That part of their association wasn't going anywhere.

Hark at him; giving Miss Babcock a break and deciding to ease up on the physical pranks.

If he'd mentioned this aloud to anyone, they would have accused him of going soft.


	8. In Defence of a Butler

**Hi there everyone, I'm back! I'm sorry this one took as long as it did; I've been away on holiday, and I only got back on Saturday. I've been working every day since then to get the chapter ready. Hopefully the next one won't take so long, but I do have to prepare to go abroad for my university course, so I can't guarantee anything. But please don't think I've forgotten you guys - you're all the best, and I don't deserve you.**

 **As always, I'll appreciate any feedback tremendously.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or any of its settings or characters.**

* * *

 ****The next few days, as far as C.C. was concerned, ran pretty smoothly. It might've been her imagination, but she could've sworn that, between the still frequent insults and zingers tossed across the penthouse, Niles was behaving himself more. Just as a couple of examples, she hadn't had yesterday's reheated coffee for breakfast, or slipped on a highly-polished floor in what felt like forever. Not that she particularly missed either of those things. Niles' coffee was great when he was making it properly, and not falling hard on her ass every time she walked through the door was always a bonus.

It was actually starting to be relaxing, having him around. To work. A servant who was working properly certainly did make things easier. Yeah. That's what she meant.

She especially found this to be true in the mornings. Giving Niles a list of stuff to do each day instead of doing all the errands outside the penthouse herself was actually a massive timesaver.

It was certainly proving to be so that particular morning, as C.C. entered the kitchen to give Niles his daily instructions. She was getting ready for work at the same time, throwing everything she'd need for the day into her handbag.

She handed him the piece of paper, not allowing him to just agree and take it, but sweeping one finger down the edge to point something out first, "I've numbered the list this time, it means you have to do the things on the list in that order."

The butler took the list and rolled his eyes at her, before returning to putting the newly-cleaned dishes from breakfast back in the cupboard, "I am aware of how numbering things works."

"Oh, good. I was worried for a minute that with your servant-level education, they might've forgotten to teach you how to count," the producer paused, looking up from her half-opened bag to stare off into the middle distance as a content smile crept onto her face. "Hm…I'm thinking of having something Italian tonight."

Niles put away the last plate, only momentarily glancing over his shoulder to look at her, "And what would you like me to cook after your date doesn't work out?"

At once the smile was gone, and C.C. returned to inspecting the contents of her purse, "Something which reminds you that I have control over your salary and living arrangements."

"Does mushroom risotto sound good to you?" the butler turned around to face her directly, hands clasped and the small, pleasant smile of an obedient domestic helper on his face.

That was more like it.

"Mm, sounds perfect. Add picking out a wine to go with it to the list, would you?" with a grin, she hitched the leather purse strap up over her shoulder, exited the kitchen and began to head for the front door. "I'm going to work."

"Don't let the door catch your tail on your way out," he called after her in a sing-song fashion.

"Hate you!" the producer suppressed a laugh as she yelled back to him over her shoulder.

Just before she closed the front door behind her, there came a cheerful reply of "Hate you more!"

* * *

The traffic moved swiftly, and C.C. had soon found herself a parking space right outside the steps to the mansion. She knocked on the front door, and the Sheffield's new butler answered.

"Morning, Lawrence."

Every time the producer looked at him, she couldn't help but be struck by how utterly unlike Niles the man was. Both men were tall and probably roughly the same age, but where her own butler was broad of build, with light hair, blue eyes, and a slight tan to his skin, the new servant was lean, with dark hair and eyes, and couldn't have been paler without someone physically painting him white.

She had also yet to see Lawrence smile, which didn't unnerve her too much, but it had made her realise just how often Niles had seemed happy, when they were both at work.

More than once, Lawrence specifically not smiling made her think there was something missing whilst she was at the mansion. But that feeling never stayed for very long. She had far too much to do to dwell on stuff which wasn't really that important.

"Good morning, Miss Babcock," he greeted her politely, with a slight bow. There was no denying, Lawrence was good at what he did. He was practically the model for all butlers everywhere, especially in that he spoke only when spoken to, made no comment on things which didn't concern him, and didn't draw attention to himself when he was working. _Like any good servant_ , her mother would have said.

C.C. wondered how her mother would react if she knew her daughter had basically hired Lawrence's polar opposite in that regard. B.B. Babcock had little time beyond toleration for servants in general, but she was specifically irked by ones who expressed opinions or emotions. The same rule applied to children. Both other peoples' and her own.

Lawrence moved aside to allow her through the door, and the producer allowed him to take her coat, but refused his offer to announce her to Maxwell, heading straight for the office.

"Good morning, Maxwell," as she walked in she greeted her employer, who was in the middle of going through a form at the time. He looked up from his work and smiled.

"Good morning, C.C.." noticing she was about to being working, he put out his hand in a stopping gesture. "Just before you get started, do you mind if I have a word with you about something?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he had to say, "Uh…sure. What is it?"

"It's about your working hours, recently," Maxwell explained. "You went to the theatre several times during that week I gave you as vacation time, didn't you?"

"I might've…stopped in, occasionally, just to check on things. I got bored at home!" C.C. felt more than a little sheepish. Her going to what was technically work, when she had been given time off, could be considered wasting Maxwell's time. "You're not really mad about that, are you?"

"No. But I do have one other question."

Relieved he wasn't going to reprimand her, she put her bag down on the seat and turned to look at him, "Sure, go ahead."

The dark-haired producer's tone suddenly changed, "When were you planning on telling me you'd employed Niles?"

C.C. froze, her face somewhere halfway between a smile and a look of nausea.

"How did you find out?" she eventually managed to ask.

"Fran told me. I asked her to call your penthouse on the day of that traffic accident, and who should answer the phone, but one disgraced former employee of mine!" her employer was clearly displeased, verging on angry for some reason. "And when I asked him, Lawrence mentioned seeing someone who fit Niles' exact profile dropping you off at the theatre, those mornings you went there before coming here."

The blonde woman's face fell. Damn Nanny Fine! _And_ that new butler of theirs! Who were they to go off telling Maxwell hers and Niles' business? She would've told her employer, when she was ready. She'd simply been waiting for him to calm down and not be so angry. Not that it was much of _his_ business, either…

C.C. had been too caught up in her own thoughts as she seated herself to realise that Maxwell had continued to lecture his points at her, and his voice was growing increasingly frustrated. He had obviously taken her silence on the matter for indifference. He ceased his arguing, leaned back in his chair in what appeared to be disbelief, and shook his head.

"You know, I'm beginning to wonder just whose side you're on in this!"

 _That_ C.C. heard.

"I am _not_ taking anyone's side!" the blonde couldn't believe the reaction Maxwell was having over this, when it really didn't warrant anything more than perhaps a passing comment. One thing was for sure, her previously content state of mind had been sufficiently ruined for the day. "I'd have to know what was _going on_ between you two in order to do that! You fired a butler, I happened to be in the market for one; what's the big deal?"

There was a second of calm whilst Maxwell thought this over. The dark-haired producer then blinked at her, and his previous upset look faded. He threw up his hands in surrender.

"…You know what? There isn't one. You're right, C.C.; he's no longer in my employment, it's none of my business _where_ he works now."

Both members of Sheffield-Babcock Productions fell silent in what seemed to be an agreed truce on the matter, and there were a few moments of peace as they began the day's work. C.C. picked out a file full of contracts and settled onto the loveseat in order to go through them, thinking at last she could get on with her day.

The blonde's mood had actually started to lift again, when her associate put down his papers. She almost closed her eyes, emitting a groan under her breath. Luckily, Maxwell didn't hear. He was too busy bringing up the subject of the butler again.

"But why do you even _need_ a butler? You're hardly ever _in_ your apartment, you hire people to clean it and to walk your dog-"

"I am in my apartment quite a lot, actually, and having one person do everything when I'm not saves money," C.C. interrupted calmly, attempting to keep her voice even. She flicked over another page, her eyes focused on the text. "It also means I don't have to wait forever for shopping I've ordered over the phone, if it ever even _arrives_."

"If they're so terrible at deliveries, why don't you just call the company and complain to them?" her employer suggested. He seemed determined to come up with a reason for her to not have to employ Niles. An observation she decided not to bring up.

"Because _Sweeney Todd_ has better customer service than they do," the blonde woman finally looked up at him, and shrugged. "It's far easier to just make a list and send Niles out with it."

"And his pay?" Maxwell queried.

She blinked, "His what?"

"His pay," he repeated. "What do you pay him?"

Again, C.C. shrugged, "Same as you did."

Maxwell mumbled something, questioning if Niles was actually _worth_ his pay, which forced C.C. to lower her work into her lap again in exasperation.

"He has been, so far, if you're that interested. And, if I'm being honest, I don't fully understand why you let him go."

Secretly, she didn't understand Maxwell's inability to let the _subject_ go, either, but she was still trying to keep composed. Her eyes dropped to the contract again.

Maxwell dropped his paperwork on the desk and stared at her, "You, of all people, don't understand why I let Niles go?"

"Not really, no." having finally had enough, C.C. tossed the folder onto the loveseat and returned his look once more. "I mean, Niles has done some pretty out-there stuff over the years in order to make a joke, but what was _finally_ the last straw? What was _so bad_ that you decided he just didn't deserve his job anymore?"

Her employer huffed out a breath, and muttered bitterly as he returned his own gaze to his papers, "You'll find out. Soon enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means _you'll find out_ ," he snapped, not meeting her eye.

C.C. stood up, approaching the desk and folding her arms, "Come on, Maxwell, it couldn't have been _that_ bad! We both know Niles can be an ass sometimes, but he'd never do anything as horrific as you're making this out to be!"

"I am _not_ making anything out to be horrific, C.C., as you so delicately put it!" Maxwell slowly rose from his chair as his voice neared shouting. "I am, in fact, trying to-"

He was interrupted by the phone ringing, which he picked up.

"Hello? Yes? I see…But we already discussed this with him! Could you put him on, please?" the scowl Maxwell wore momentarily deepened, if that was possible. "I see. Alright, if that's the way it has to be, then so be it. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye."

Sighing heavily, he put the phone down, seemingly composing himself. That was only on the outside, though. The blonde knew him well enough to know the issue wasn't over. The interruption had only bought her a little time.

"That was the theatre. There's been an issue with the set designer," her employer retook his seat, picked up his work in one hand, and motioned to the door with the other. He never broke his warning eye contact all that time. "I have a lot of work to do here, so if you wouldn't mind, C.C….?"

The blonde nodded stiffly, and went back to her seat to pick up her bag, "…Fine."

She left the office, appreciating the fact that nobody else was around to see her apparently sour mood. Not waiting for Lawrence to stop whatever he was doing, come into the hallway, and fetch her coat, she grabbed it herself and made a hasty departure from the house.

She didn't feel relieved to be out of range for her business associate's bad temper. She didn't even feel like tearing the set designer a new one, even though that was probably what would happen when she got to the theatre.

For all of Maxwell's muttering and complaining about Niles, she knew whatever had happened couldn't really have been _that_ bad. But it was an argument she knew she wasn't going to win, even if she had the perfect points of logic all set up by the time she got back to the mansion.

At any rate, the producer was too preoccupied with counting herself lucky; even though he was clearly ticked off with her (and had continued to be so with Niles), Maxwell hadn't fired the _both_ of them.

She was only about three feet away from her car, when all of a sudden she stopped, and replayed the last few minutes in her head.

Had she just been… _defending Niles_? To _Maxwell_? And had she just referred to herself and Niles as "both of them"? As in a _pair_?

C.C. felt her face screwing up in bewilderment. _Why would she_ do _all of that?_

She didn't understand it; the words had just come so _naturally_ to her. At any other time, she'd have cut off her own right arm in order to take Maxwell's side against Niles in something like this, and yet now the very idea didn't feel right or fair.

Come to think of it, when had things being right and fair suddenly become an issue?

It must've been about the same time she'd decided she really did enjoy having the butler around the penthouse. The place didn't seem so…empty, knowing he'd be there when she got back. There'd be a hot meal in preparation, and decent conversation, too…

 _Not that it changed anything whatsoever_ , something in her mind suddenly remembered to chastise her. It gave the producer a reminder to compose herself, and she took a deep breath, straightening out her jacket. As she did, she managed to hold back the sigh which had been threatening to escape her lips only seconds before.

This was almost as bad as the day she'd found out the butler had been fired. What was _wrong_ with her all of a sudden? She couldn't just stand there all day thinking about Ni- _this_.

And _this_ , she reminded herself as she unlocked her car, wasn't worth as much time as she had just spent thinking about it.

Especially not when she had work to do.


	9. Quarantine

**Hi, everyone! Here it is, the next chapter! Sorry it took a bit longer than thought, I've been quite busy, seeing as I only have just over four more weeks until I move country. Anyway, it's here now, and I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but we are now officially over half-way through this story!**

 **Anyway, enjoy! Reviews are always welcome.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, any of its characters or settings, etc.**

* * *

 ****The weeks went by, well passing the 'month' mark, and the weather began to turn colder. As the temperature dropped, the local news began to report that cases of flu were starting to go up. As Niles completed his errands around the city over those next few days, he was definitely starting to see the effects on plenty of people.

Miss Babcock was one of those to succumb, and the butler had to watch as the woman staggered out of her bedroom into the living room in the morning, dishevelled in her pyjamas, the remains of last night's cold sweat clear on her face, and coughing like she was trying to bring up her own lungs. He had heard how she'd coughed whenever she'd smoked – he'd spent the last few weeks subtly encouraging her to quit for good – and it hadn't sounded anywhere near as bad as _this_. He cocked his head to one side as she approached, faintly inquiring about the location of her purse, and he looked her up and down.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Miss Babcock, you don't look well at all," he frowned, observing all the signs that pointed to the obvious. "I'm no medical expert, but I'd say you've caught that flu that's been going round."

C.C. let out a weak noise that to her probably sounded flippant, but to him just sounded like denial. She tried to straighten up, leaning on the wall for support as she insisted on keeping going.

"What…flu? Get me…a cup of coffee and some…breakfast, I'll be f-fine!" her words were broken up by hacking coughs, and she finished the sentence with a loud sneeze. Chester jumped, scrambled down from his position on one of the living room chairs, and ran from the room.

Ignoring the dog, the butler approached his employer gingerly. The symptoms of her illness only seemed to become more prominent the closer he got, and other things presented themselves, too; the fact that she was shaking, for instance, and the dark circles under her eyes.

"Miss Babcock, might I ask how much _sleep_ you got last night?" he asked, not sounding completely sure of himself.

"I got…plenty!" the producer attempted to wave a hand at him dismissively, but the persistent cough ruined the effect. "I've run…the company by myself on less than…three hours!"

Three hours? How could anybody _possibly_ function coherently for a whole working day on just three hours? She wouldn't be able to focus on anything! Come to think of it, how would she be able to drive a _car_ and get around in that condition? That was just an accident waiting to happen! Even if she _did_ make it to work, she'd probably pass the flu onto everybody else, and even in attempting to work, she could be making herself worse!

That settled it. She wasn't going anywhere that day, as long as he had anything to do with it. Ignoring any feeble attempts she made to protest, he took her gently but firmly by the upper arms and manoeuvred her to the sofa, seating her there. Instructing her not to move, he hurried into the kitchen to stop the breakfast he had been planning, and to prepare one more suited to someone who was ill.

After bringing her tea and dry toast on a tray in the living room, he went through the medicine cabinet in the main bathroom, until he found what he was looking for. He picked out the little bottle of cold medicine, and went to the kitchen to fetch a spoon.

As he exited the kitchen and approached the sitting area, he noted the spilled tea on the tray, and part of the floor. It was clear Miss Babcock's hands were still shaking. The producer was either cold, or suffering from the residual effects of her sleepless night. Either way, she wasn't going to be able to hold the spoon and take the medicine by herself.

The butler moved the tray to one side and seated himself on the coffee table. He poured out a spoonful of strong-smelling amber liquid, and offered it to C.C..

"Here, Miss Babcock. Take this."

She gave him an irritated look, as she wheezed out a question, "If you insist on it…can't I a…at least take it by myself, like an…adult?"

The butler met her exasperation with an unimpressed look. The woman hadn't been able to hold her teacup steadily, so he didn't hold much hope for her being able to hold anything else.

Maybe if she saw how bad it was, she'd give in.

"Alright," he said, not breaking eye contact as he reached into his pocket and brought out a pen. "I'll allow you to take it by yourself, if you can take and hold onto this pen without trembling like a caffeine addict."

The producer agreed, and he held the pen out. C.C. reached for it. She was clearly determined to prove that she could do this by herself, even though he could see her hand quivering as she clasped her fingers around the plastic. She held it there, her trembling no better, and she nodded at him in what he supposed was triumph because she didn't drop it. But it was hard to fully make out through the coughing.

"S-see?" she told him before giving the pen back, choking out her words. "I'm perfectly…f-fine!"

She wasn't in the slightest, he thought to himself. But he also knew she was stubborn to the point that it would take her doing something, and the worst case scenario happening as a result, for her to finally admit she was wrong. So, if she wanted to play it _that_ way, that was just fine by him.

When she dropped it, then she'd see.

"Fine. If you think you can do it by yourself, then be my guest," he carefully turned the spoon around and offered her the handle. "Here you go."

The producer took it and began to guide it towards her, but her hand gave an involuntary twitch, and the medicine spilled out onto the floor before any could reach her mouth. Niles gave her a "told you so" look, and she sighed.

"Okay…you _might_ have a point about the shaking…" she croaked out, shrugging reluctantly.

"I know I do," he replied, pleased that she seemed to understand. "Now, will you let me help you?"

"Yes," came the resigned response. Niles could hear that all the coughing was tiring her voice out, and she had probably realised that until she was well enough to stop shaking, she had no other choice.

She handed him the spoon back, he refilled it, and offered it out to her.

Leaning forward, C.C. tentatively sipped at it and then recoiled, spluttering, "It's… _awful_! What _is_ that stuff?"

The butler turned to take a look at the label on the bottle, and he pretended to squint and read the words.

""Everything pure and good in liquid form". No wonder you're having a negative reaction," he looked back at her, now serious. "It's cough medicine. It might not do a lot for some of your other flu symptoms, but it will ease the strain on your chest and throat, and you might be able to sleep for a while. If we're lucky, it might stave off any fever, too."

He watched until he was sure she'd had a full spoonful. Then, leaving the medicine there, he got up from the coffee table and took her breakfast tray back to the kitchen. He brought back a cloth with him and cleaned up the spills. The butler then went to fetch her a blanket from the linen closet, and brought the blonde woman's pillows from her bed to prop up behind her on the sofa. As a couple of final touches, he placed a box of tissues within her reaching distance on the table, and the medicine just a little further away than that.

"It's pretty strong stuff, so it should start working soon," he told her as he finished tucking her legs in under the blanket, up on the seat. He pointed a finger at her in a mock-ordering fashion. "But you aren't to take any when I'm not around to supervise."

C.C. smirked. It was the first genuine smile Niles had seen her give all morning.

"Look at you, it's like _you're_ trying to be the boss…" she said gently, obviously trying to rest her throat but trying not to make it obvious. She knew she was ill, but giving in to him over it was something she wouldn't do. That was typical.

He gave her a small version of his usual lop-sided grin, "Well, maybe that's what I _am_ doing. And I'll be doing it as long as you're not well enough to make your own decisions."

As he turned away to head into the kitchen, he heard a quietly mocking rasp coming from behind him, "Not well enough to make decisions! Niles, you're such an old drama queen, I feel perfectly well enough to look after myself!"

He was about to retort by reminding her that she had hired him, and then claim that it was evidence enough that she wouldn't look after herself if somebody else could do it for her. But then as he turned back around, he noticed that C.C. was still talking to the empty space in front of her, her eyes focused on where he had been sat.

Niles blinked, studied his position in relation to where she was looking, and spoke up, "Miss Babcock, I'm over here now."

The woman slowly turned towards his voice, and blinked, "Oh, _there_ you are! Would you stop moving around so fast?"

The butler didn't quite know what to say to that. The bottle had said the medicine was quite strong and could at first produce slight delusions, but surely not _that_ quickly? He checked his watch. It had only been ten minutes. _Was_ it working already? He'd say it was her illness making her behave like this, but he could also see that Miss Babcock's shaking was starting to subside, and she wasn't coughing quite like she had been. The coughs were quieter, and slightly less frequent.

"I…" he trailed off, and then sighed in defeat. "That really _is_ strong medicine, isn't it?"

He resolved that he'd just have to let her sleep through it. Now she'd taken something so strong, she couldn't go anywhere, anyway.

"Stay right there," he told her, a part of him fearing the producer might try to get up in order to protest. "I'm calling the mansion to let them know you won't be in at work today."

He needn't have worried; she didn't appear to hear him. He walked over to the phone, picked it up and dialled the number. In the background, he could hear Miss Babcock getting more comfortable on the sofa, coughing only every now and then. The medicine might have been strong, but it was clearly starting to do its intended job. No doubt it would last for a few hours and then she'd have to take some more, but they'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

He waited as the phone rang. It didn't do so for very long, and a man's voice answered.

"Sheffield residence?"

He didn't recognise the person at the other end. It must have been the new butler. Trying not to think about how the man had filled the void he'd left at the mansion, he took on a slightly more formal voice and answered him.

"Good morning. This is Niles, Miss Babcock's butler?"

"Ah, yes, Mrs Sheffield told me all about you," over the man's mild and level voice, in the back, Niles could hear a familiar nasal sound coming closer. "She is right here; would you care to speak with her?"

"Please."

There was a moment of quiet, and the next voice the butler heard was Fran's, "Hello?"

"Miss Fine, I-"

"Niles! I'm so glad you finally called!" she interrupted him cheerfully before he could finish his greeting. "It's been ages since we last spoke; has Miss Babcock been workin' you hard?"

For a moment, the butler's throat unexpectedly went very dry for some reason, and all of a sudden, the sentence he had been about to say was gone from his mind. He looked quickly over at his employer, and his mind wandered to the implications…

But he quickly snapped out of it, turning away. That was certainly _not_ what the former nanny had meant when she'd asked, and he could only chastise himself for having thought of something like that.

Before his friend could wonder why he wasn't replying, he swallowed and said, "Well, yes, but that's not why I called."

"Oh. Okay then, what's up, sweetie?"

Fran sounded disappointed. She had most likely been hoping for a social call, after all this time.

"Miss Babcock has the flu," the butler explained, now feeling somewhat guilty for not having had the time to talk with his friend before now. "I just wanted to let you know that she won't be coming into work for the foreseeable future."

"Uh huh. Well, Maxwell won't be happy, but I guess it can't be helped."

She didn't sound happy either, but Niles thought that maybe there was a way _that_ could be helped.

"Had he actually _been_ happy recently?" he lightly joked, hoping she would respond to it.

Fran made a noise like she was weighing up how best to phrase it, "He's been…gettin' there."

"Have you still been wearing him down?" the butler couldn't hold back a chuckle. He really did appreciate Fran's resolve on the matter, even if he hadn't really been giving it much thought himself, and might have come to the conclusion that the whole thing was probably hopeless, anyway. He heard his friend sigh down the other end of the line.

"I tried, sweetie. I gave it my all every day for a solid three weeks, but he just stopped listening!" she sounded like the mere thought was annoying to her. She was clearly frustrated that Maxwell wasn't willing to discuss it, and had been keeping that frustration to herself. Niles heard her breathing slowing, like she was calming herself, and then she spoke again. "Deep down, I think he misses you just like the rest of us, an' feels bad, an' that's why he shuts off whenever I try to talk ta him about you. But, if you came back yourself and the two of ya talked it all over, I think he might just have ta listen and give you yer job back!"

At her excited and obviously thought-over words, Niles' eyes once more wandered over to the sofa, where C.C. was preoccupied with curling herself up in the blanket. He turned away again, his voice softer.

"I, um…I don't think coming back right now would be wise. I'm sure you've all learned to live without me," he said quickly. "Besides, I wouldn't want to tread on your new butler's toes."

"I don't think we'd hear a word out of Lawrence if somebody cut _off_ his toes, let alone trod on 'em," Fran huffed out a laugh, before her voice grew thoughtful. "But I guess it has been a long time… though you should at least stop off sometime with Miss Babcock – I know the rest of us'd wanna see ya, and you don't have to stay too long if you don't want to."

The butler smiled, "I will certainly keep that in mind. It would be lovely to see all of you again. I'll mention it to Miss Babcock when she's well enough."

"Okay, Scarecrow," she sounded more like her usual happy self again, no doubt delighted that she could potentially see him again in the near future. "And send yer boss our love, too – hope she feels better soon."

"Thank you, I'll let her know now," Niles replied, his mood now definitely feeling more lifted. "She's just had some medicine and we're waiting for it to work."

"Oh, then I'd definitely better let you get back to her," Fran replied, and the butler could almost see the knowing smile she was probably wearing. "It's bad enough havin' _any_ boss who's sick, let alone havin' a boss who's _Miss Babcock_ and _just so happens_ ta be sick. Just let me know as soon as you're available to come ta the mansion, okay?"

"I will," he said. "Goodbye, Mrs Sheffield."

"Bye, Niles."

He put the phone down without another word, and returned to his employer's side, "The Sheffields send their love. They want you to get better soon."

C.C. stared up at him, "Oh…were you on the phone just now?"

Containing a groan because he knew that it was the medicine's fault and not C.C.'s, Niles replied evenly, "Yes. I phoned the mansion, to tell them that you won't be in at work today."

"Why did you call them?" the producer moaned. "I could still go in…!"

She slowly tried to struggle her way out of her blanket, but Niles leaned over the arm of the sofa in order to put his hands on her shoulders, and he gently pushed her back onto the pillows.

"You're in no fit condition to work, Babs," he stated firmly. "You've got it bad."

A beat. C.C. blinked at him in silence. Then she grabbed him by the tie, dragged him down over her, and planted her lips on his.

It took him completely by surprise at first, but as the feeling of her soft lips on his began to register, he relaxed and leaned into it, his previously sensible thoughts becoming lost in a haze of clouded thoughts and a sped-up heartbeat.

When she was done, she pulled away and lessened her grip on his tie, but did not let go.

Using her other arm, she patted his cheek with some kind of lame sense of satisfaction and smiled, "There. Now you've got it, too."

Coming out of his trance as her words finally got through to him, and pulling himself free of her grip, Niles took on an unimpressed countenance.

"Smart move, Typhoid Mary – what will you do whilst _I'm_ sick?"

His employer waved a hand around in a vague gesture to the entire room. The butler had to stand up straight and take a step back, so that her hand didn't smack him by accident.

"Just…clean everything now, and we'll wait it out," she turned over, inward towards the sofa cushions, and wrapped the blanket further around herself. She still spluttered with coughs, but they were nowhere near as bad. The medicine was clearly continuing to have an effect, and making the producer yawn as her body gave in to rest. "If you can't cook, I can order…"

Her voice trailed off as she fell asleep. Niles couldn't stop himself from laughing softly; there was just something so…comical wasn't the right word, even though he probably would have used it if other people had been around. But it wasn't right. Not for the way she'd cocooned herself in the blanket like that, curled up and murmuring to herself in her sleep. Figuring she was going to be there for some while, and wanting to make sure that she would be able to breathe properly, he gently lifted her head and slipped an extra cushion underneath. C.C. moaned a little, and snuggled in further, but did not wake.

Niles stepped back to admire his handiwork.

 _Endearing_. That was the word in his mind. Not that he'd ever say so when she was well, because she'd probably kill him. And not that he should even be thinking about such things in the first place. If he thought she was out of reach before, with her cold and snobbish demeanour, she _certainly_ was now that she was his cold and snobbish _employer_. Their previous interactions of that nature had mostly been accidents, at any rate, and were usually the fault of too much alcohol.

And he wouldn't even _try_ to bring up that kiss she'd just planted on him, either; neither of them were drunk, but she was so delirious he doubted she'd remember what had happened by the time she'd recovered.

Not that _he'd_ ever forget it: the warmth radiating from her body, the way her lips had almost moulded around his, as though they fit together on purpose…

He shook himself out of it. No. She was _delirious_ , for Heaven's sake! And it was _definitely_ best if he remained professional, particularly in that particular sense. C.C. had often mentioned to him about how her mother had always told her Babcocks and servants didn't mix. Even if she'd been using B.B.'s phrase in a teasing manner, he couldn't help but think that there was a chance the producer actually meant it, too.

Even if they had gotten closer purely as a result of their living arrangements.

But no, he told himself again, things wouldn't have changed _that_ much, even if there was a part of him which secretly hoped they had.

He turned on his heel and went into the kitchen, checking for all the right ingredients to make chicken noodle soup for dinner that evening. He might not be able to dwell on his feelings, but he could still do his duty by his employer. Maybe he could at least consider her his friend, too, like he had been with Mr. Sheffield…

There was no point in denying it, though; he had to admit to himself that this was different. He'd grown up with Maxwell, he knew that they considered each other friends. Or, at least, they had done until recently. His history with the blonde producer had certainly been more chequered, to say the least. Did _she_ consider them friends? It was hard to tell – she didn't speak about her feelings for anyone, at least, not to _him_. Ever since she had returned from…well, the place they _definitely_ didn't talk about, she had been friendlier and they had gotten along better. That sense of good humour between them had only increased as he joined her at the penthouse, and developed the longer he'd stayed in her employment.

So perhaps he _could_ consider them friends, even if there was absolutely no chance of anything else. But that was really a thought for another time, when he was alone. For now, his responsibilities as a servant came first, and he had to get back to the aforementioned dinner plans.

All ingredients seemed to be accounted for when he checked in the fridge and in the cupboards, anyway. Miss Babcock probably wouldn't move from the sofa to eat at the table, either, so napkins would be required, too. There seemed to be plenty when he went to look. Then, satisfied that everything was in order and the penthouse was clean, he pulled on his coat, picked up Chester's leash and called softly for him. The Pomeranian wandered over, and Niles clipped the lead hook to his collar. He didn't really want to leave the producer by herself for too long, but he couldn't drop everything he would usually have to do in a day, and whether he liked it or not, the dog would still need walking. Fifteen minutes wouldn't be leaving her for a long time, and C.C. would most likely sleep for far longer than that, anyway. She needed it.

He scribbled out a note for her nevertheless, and left it on the coffee table where she would see it if she woke up. Just in case.

"Let's let Mummy get some rest," he said to Chester, before opening the front door and ushering the little dog out, closing it gently behind them.


	10. The Dinner Party

**Hi there, everyone! I've got the newest chapter ready. Be prepared, because it's a long one. I made it extra long this time because I don't know when I'll be able to post the next one; as of next Monday I will be in California, and preparing to start my year of study at CSU in Long Beach, so my time will be limited. But I promise to get it up as soon as I possibly can. I am so grateful for everyone who was read, reviewed, and/or enjoyed this story so far, and I want you to continue enjoying it right up until the very end!**

 **Reviews make me happy, but don't feel pressured into leaving one if you don't feel like it.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or any of its characters, settings, etc.**

* * *

Thoughts of the kiss and the feelings it stirred up in him plagued Niles long after both residents of the penthouse recovered from the flu. However, if Miss Babcock remembered what had happened all those days ago, she made no mention of it. Not that he'd expected her to. Even if she did think about it, it was unlikely she considered it one of her finer moments, and would probably never consider the notion of talking about it with anyone else.

He didn't want to mention it to the producer himself in case she didn't remember what had happened, due to her confused state, and felt that he had taken advantage of both her and whatever their relationship actually was right then.

But it was frustrating; he had to talk about how he felt with _someone_. Preferably someone trustworthy. He'd considered talking it over with Miss Fine and trying to ask her for advice, but between Fran's voice travelling through the mansion and his own voice in the more-confined space of the penthouse, he couldn't risk C.C. overhearing anything.

So he was left to sort his feelings out for himself in his time alone, which was usually in his room at night when he should have been sleeping. However, that actually posed more questions than it answered, and only ended up with him not getting enough rest. He hid that fact from his employer, however. It would only end up annoying her, and then lead to her eventually having to ask what was bothering him. And by that stage, he'd probably be too tired and desperate to make up some excuse, and give in and tell her everything.

He kept himself busy with his work as an attempt at distraction during the day. It was just becoming increasingly harder for him to _not_ think about it, and to not think about how it was affecting him. Daily menial tasks didn't occupy his thoughts nearly enough to stop inappropriate feelings creeping up on him – he didn't have to think about most of his work in order to do it, and it was terribly easy to drift into dreaming about the heat of his employer's body, and the softness of her mouth against his, and how much he wished to feel that again, even if only once...

Luckily for him on this particular day, he had something that he could focus on properly. Miss Babcock was hosting a dinner party for her mother, brother, and sister, and each of them was bringing someone else along as a guest. C.C. especially wanted this dinner to go well, and had told him so at least a dozen times in the last three days alone, as well as once more that morning before he'd gone out to get some last-minute fresh groceries. Apparently the man her mother was due to bring as a date could be a potential backer for Sheffield-Babcock Productions, and the producer was determined to make a good impression. Niles – under the initial guise of complaining about having to feed a whole table full of Babcocks because he didn't know where he was going to get all the live mice – was actually happy to help her set it all up. He was doing his duty as her servant, and got some satisfaction by making her happy in this way, even if it was the only way he could. Besides, it proved to be a decent level of distraction in the days leading up to the event, because he'd had to plan everything from what the guests were going to eat that night, down to the finest details, such as what kind of centrepiece the table was going to be decorated with.

The fact that he'd chosen Miss Babcock's favourite flowers just happened to be a coincidence, that was all.

That morning had provided him with some distraction, too. As well as going out for the groceries, he'd cleaned the whole penthouse, walked the dog for an hour in the park, served a light lunch, and checked and double-checked all the ingredients he was due to cook that evening. In the last hour alone he'd preheated the oven to put the second course in, and the food was at that moment cooking thoroughly on a low heat. It would be ready at about eight o'clock, and didn't need anything added to it until then. All that was left for him to do by the time the evening came was to wait and answer the door for the guests.

The producer's brother was the first to arrive, quite early, and had brought with him a dark-haired man he introduced as Edward Montague, a colleague from his university. Niles greeted the two men at the door, and hung up their coats as C.C. received them and the three stepped into the living room together. Niles followed them shortly after, secretly enjoying the sight of C.C. getting along with Noel. She didn't often talk about her family, but seeing the two of them hugging and laughing at a shared joke was…pleasing. He almost stopped himself before he thought too much about how it made him feel, but allowed the sensation of gladness to pass through him. This wasn't venturing dangerously close to thinking about things he shouldn't. He had as much right as anyone else to be happy that his employer was happy, and he was going to do his best to ensure that the evening went well. It was another part of his responsibilities, after all.

Edward began to take a look around whilst the Babcock siblings chatted quietly – but not so quietly that the butler couldn't hear as he went about the room, feigning last-minute straightening up before the rest of the guests arrived.

"I'll bet he turns all kinds of heads when he's out in public – he's cute!" the blonde producer muttered, nudging her brother in the side and grinning. Noel chuckled lightly.

"I think so, but if Mummy asks, I brought him along to try and set him up with you," he replied, not taking his eyes off Edward as the man studied an ornament that C.C. had bought some time ago and Niles had insisted on putting on display. "Nothing quite like a charming Stanford English professor to show off at get-togethers, right?"

His sister smirked and gave a vague shrug, "Well, _you_ would know."

Noel faked a look of offence, folding his arms and turning away slightly, "I see hiring Niles has kept your wit as sharp as ever, Chastity-Claire. I don't know whether to be offended or proud of you."

Niles' ears perked up as the professor spoke and he raised an eyebrow, his interest suddenly piqued. He was going to make sure her evening went well, but it just wouldn't be him if he didn't ask about the name he'd just heard Noel use. Deciding to try and investigate further, he got himself closer by carrying a tray of wine glasses over from the side table, and as she turned to look at him he mouthed "Chastity-Claire?" questioningly. C.C. gave him a look in reply which, in the clearest and politest of terms, meant "not now". That look was most probably meant to tell him that he would _never_ know, either, so he nodded quickly and returned to his task of placing the tray on the coffee table, resolving to leave it for a while and try again when company had left.

"Speaking of offensive things, Niles could be making himself busy by getting us all some drinks, couldn't he?" the producer looked pointedly at him, before turning her attention to the guests.

"I suppose a drink wouldn't go amiss. Edward?" Noel turned towards the other man.

Edward nodded in reply, and began to make his way closer, "Sounds great, thank you."

"Very well. What does everyone wish to have?" Niles asked.

C.C. indicated to the tray of glasses, "Well, seeing as you've brought out the glasses, why don't you try filling them by picking out a nice wine from the selection?"

"…Actually, why don't _I_ do that?" Noel suggested. "I'm sure Niles has about a million things to take care of right now, let alone picking out a wine he isn't even going to _drink_ on top of all that. You can be giving Edward a tour of the place in the meantime – I seem to remember your office window having a stunning view."

"It's honestly no trouble at all, sir; I can-" Niles began.

The professor interrupted with a slight shake of his head, "No, no. I insist."

This was an unanticipated turn of events. It was certainly kind enough of Noel to offer, but what could he be hoping to gain from leaving the party to go into the kitchen and complete a task usually performed by domestics? Niles turned to his employer, silently asking for her judgement on the matter.

After a second or two of consideration, C.C. shrugged and said, "Well, alright then."

That settled it; the producer had seen no harm in her brother's request and agreed, so he would have to obey her wishes. It still seemed odd, though. Not that it was his place to question.

"Don't be too long, Noel; I'm sure your sister has all kinds of stories about you," Edward grinned.

The blonde woman chuckled in response, "Oh, _indeed_ I do!"

"Luckily for me, I have a few about _her_ , too," Noel smirked, and patted Edward on the back as he passed by him. "Don't start the ribbing without me. I won't be long."

Niles gave a slight bow, "If you'd care to follow me, sir, I've picked out a possible selection to go with tonight's meal – the bottles are in the kitchen."

The professor gestured towards the door, "Lead the way, my good man."

The butler began to head in that direction, Noel right behind him. Both could hear C.C. scoffing and sniggering to herself at her brother's use of the words "good man" in relation to her servant. As Niles moved, he gave her a quick unimpressed look over his shoulder, before turning and entering the kitchen.

He went to the counter, and put a chopping board down in the space in front of him, before taking a couple of knives from the drawer underneath and setting them on the side. Noel watched, not apparently looking for the wine C.C. had suggested. Niles saw him fold his arms out of the corner of his eye.

"Tell me, Niles. What exactly _is_ the relationship between yourself and my sister?"

The butler froze, the thoughts he'd been pushing to the back of his mind for the sake of the evening suddenly thrust straight to the forefront. He hadn't been expecting anything as direct as this, even if he'd developed the feeling that he was going to get _some_ sort of talk from the professor. It had been the only reasonable explanation for Noel wanting to excuse himself from the party.

But what was Niles going to tell him? He had been wanting to discuss his feelings for C.C. for some time now, but was her brother _really_ the right person to have this talk with? And if he did tell him anything, how much would he reveal? Noel had seemed the amicable sort the last time they met. Could he trust him? C.C. trusted him – but did that mean the professor would run off and tell his sister as soon as he had any information?

He considered for a second, looking down at the utensils he had on the surface of the counter. Making the choice to try and ward Noel off asking any further, he opened the drawer up again, picked out a tin opener, and handed it to him.

"Here. You might need this for that can of worms you want to open."

Noel remained expressionless, moving to put the device back where it had come from, "I'm serious."

Why he had expected such an answer to work, Niles didn't know. The producer's brother was an intelligent man, and wouldn't be satisfied with a flimsy, dissuading sort of half-answer.

Maybe he could give a better answer that just happened to be tactful as well.

"Well then, the answer is that I am her servant, and she is my employer," Niles tried again, shrugging. "And we have…less than conventional attitudes about how that works."

The professor studied him dubiously, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded once more.

"Anybody paying _any_ form of attention could have told me that. But there's more to it that just "servant-and-employer-with-less-than-conventional-attitudes", isn't there? There must be, otherwise you wouldn't bother with the level of formality you've shown so far," his eyes darted to the door, where C.C. and Edward were too busy chatting and too far away to be listening in, and he gave a small smile as he looked back at the butler. "You can trust me, I'm very adept at keeping secrets."

Niles' own eyes followed Noel's gaze, and he quickly crossed the room to shut the door, before returning to the counter, sighing. He probably wouldn't be left to do his job until he'd given another answer – the _full_ answer. Or, as much of a full answer as he could bring himself to give, at any rate.

This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd thought about how much he'd wanted to discuss what he was feeling with someone, but it would have to do to take some of the pressure off.

"…I don't truly know how to answer you. To start off, we were just a butler and a socialite who had our own way of coping with our situation, but the longer I've been employed here, the more things have… _changed_ between us," he went to the fridge, brought out some of the ingredients for that night's dinner and placed them down on the counter to prepare them. He couldn't look Noel in the face as he explained – he had no idea what to expect as a reaction, so he kept his eyes on his work. "I'd say we were friends, but I don't out loud because friendship is usually mutual and I wouldn't even know how to _begin_ asking her what she is really feeling."

His voice had been speeding up as he'd continued to explain, but Noel waited patiently, and there was a slight pause after Niles had finished.

"Yes, she has always been quite the anomaly," the professor eventually agreed thoughtfully, appearing to at last turn his attention to the selection of wine bottles lined up along the wall.

That wasn't the answer Niles had been expecting. It was, however, one which made him relax somewhat. But there was still something about this entire moment between them which didn't make sense, the more the butler thought about it, and he looked up at the other man.

"If I might speak plainly, Professor Babcock, why are you asking _me_ about this, instead of your sister?"

Noel shrugged, apparently reading the wine labels, "You said it yourself, really. C.C. is careful with her feelings. I felt I might get a more straightforward answer from you."

Niles blinked, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

The professor seemed to consider the question for a moment, "I think so. What I found was certainly _interesting_ , to say the least."

"…This conversation _is_ confidential, isn't it?" the butler asked hesitantly.

"Completely," the professor picked up a bottle and began to head for the door, but turned back towards Niles one last time before heading into the living room. "Though I might suggest that you and C.C. have your own little talk, before too long."

He left him alone to finish his work.

Well, Niles thought in the pause that followed the professor's departure, he'd managed to get some of the weight off his chest and the world _hadn't_ caved in in the process. Well, not that he could see or hear at that moment. He put down the knife he'd been chopping vegetables with and let out a soft breath, before moving to the door. Taking a quick look outside, he could see Noel pouring wine into each glass and loudly discussing a mutual friend of his and C.C.'s that he'd happened to see recently.

He noticed the butler was there, but didn't say anything. Instead, he indicated with his eyes towards his sister and smiled at the him, before the three guests moved off so that C.C. could show them the view from her office window.

Maybe, Niles pondered to himself, if he'd been able to have such a conversation with such an unlikely person, he _would_ be able to pluck up the courage to start discussing things with Miss Babcock, too. Noel seemed to think it was a good idea, and had proved so far to be sincere with his words. The butler could at least give being honest with C.C. about what he'd been thinking and feeling a go, if he started slowly. And, perhaps over the course of several talks over several days, he'd work his way up to how they were both feeling about each other and where they stood.

Yes. That's what he'd do. And he'd start tonight, after the guests had gone. This was probably something best done sooner rather than later, anyway.

Mentally practicing how he'd go about having this discussion with his employer kept him feeling adrenalized as he finished the first courses – individual bowls of salad – which he placed in the fridge to keep cool and fresh. Imagining how it could all play out when they were alone and had talked everything over properly was making him feel oddly light as he walked around the kitchen, allowing himself a few moments to overcome the excitement before heading out to announce that the first part of dinner was ready to be served.

It took a lot less time than he'd have liked: he was brought abruptly back to Earth by someone ringing the doorbell.

When he answered the door, the first woman he saw on the other side could not have been anyone other than C.C.'s mother. B.B. Babcock was almost a spitting image of how the butler had – once or twice – imagined the producer would look when she was older; the same deep blue eyes, strong jaw and long nose. The difference was that the older woman's hair; though it was mostly silver now, it appeared to have once been a darker shade than her daughter's, and she herself was slightly shorter.

This last point of information didn't appear to have any impact on her _poise_ , however. She held herself like she was the tallest person in the room, and by far the most important. She breezed past the butler, not even looking in his direction as she practically threw him her coat and swept into the living room, heading in the direction of her daughter, who had returned from showing Noel and Edward around when she'd heard the door opening. He got similar treatment from the three people who followed B.B. in like an entourage; a woman who just about deigned stop to look at him before handing him her coat – giving him just enough time to note the similarities in looks and conclude that this was C.C.'s sister – and two suited men, one fairly young with dark brown hair, and an older one with entirely grey hair. The butler retreated from the door, but stayed in the room, picking up the bottle of wine from the side table where it had been left and resolving to make himself useful – and give himself a reason to be there, even if he would deny that fact if asked – by offering to refill empty or nearly-empty glasses.

"C.C. my dear!" B.B. opened her arms as she received her daughter. But Niles noticed that the two women didn't actually embrace – they appeared to kiss the air either side of each other's cheeks, and he came to the conclusion that the older woman had only opened her arms in order for her daughter to better see her emerald green dress. From what he knew of the producer's mother, he wouldn't be surprised if it was new and bought specifically for showing off on an occasion like this. From the way C.C. had chosen a black dress which was slightly older but more comfortable (though still elegant, Niles secretly thought), one wouldn't be hard-pressed to assume that B.B. intended to show up her daughter by wearing such an outfit.

Despite the fact that, for a split second, Niles could tell she had been thinking the same, C.C. smiled politely, "Hello, Mother. How are you?"

"As well as can be expected, given the circumstances," her mother huffed.

The producer raised an eyebrow, "Oh, have you been unwell?"

"No, apparently my driver had some personal time off today – a wedding or a funeral or some such," B.B. waved a hand flippantly at that moment in her explanation, "and we had to take a _cab_ to get here!"

Niles felt his own eyebrow raising at such a display of conceit from the older socialite, but he kept it controlled and maintained a straight face. He could already tell this evening wasn't going to be a relaxed one, but he was going to try his hardest to get through it anyway.

If he kept telling himself that Miss Babcock was expecting it of him, it would make things easier.

Before C.C. could reply to her mother's comment, Noel and Edward had crossed the room to see them.

"Mother, how lovely to see you!" her brother beamed.

"My dearest Noel!" their mother's smile grew wider for a moment, but faltered slightly at the sight of his companion. "And who is your…friend?"

"This is Professor Edward Montague, Mother," Noel indicated towards Edward, who dutifully shook the woman's hand. The professor then lowered his voice. "I brought him along to introduce to C.C.."

B.B.'s expression became one of understanding, and she placed one hand over her heart as her smile returned fully, "Oh…! Well, that explains _that_ , then."

As the mother, son, and guest continued chatting, C.C. excused herself from the conversation and turned towards her sister.

"D.D., wonderful to see you, as always."

"And you, my dearest sister," her sister replied, casting her eye over C.C.'s appearance. "High-rise living certainly seems to be agreeing with you. You can decide whenever you want to just stop using the elevator and tackle those flights of stairs!"

Niles could have sworn he saw the producer twitch in irritation, but she managed it well as she smiled back, "Well, thank you, D.D.. And might I just say that I _love_ your dress!"

D.D. brushed down her front, no doubt admiring her own sense of style, "Thank you! Bloomingdales is having a sale. I'm sure if you asked, they could find one in your size."

"Oh, no, it doesn't have the right figure cut for me; it would need to be _much_ larger on top," C.C. replied coolly, taking a sip of her wine. "It's perfect for you, though, _little_ sister."

The butler suppressed the bubble of shocked laughter threatening to make its way through him, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he brought the drinks tray over. He had to get there before D.D. could start a larger argument with her sister that would only escalate until the evening was spoiled.

Breathing in deeply to calm himself, he spoke up, "Would you care for a glass of wine, Miss-"

"I'd love one, thank you," D.D. reached out and grabbed a glass from the tray without looking in his direction, no doubt to try and – unsuccessfully – hide the fact that she was almost crimson from the producer's remark.

She had a drink from her glass, and retreated back to her date without another word. The two then began conversing with Noel and Edward. For a moment, it was just Niles and C.C. stood there, and they caught each other's eyes. It was too quick to really tell, but a smirk might have passed between them, before B.B. interrupted by putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder, subtly turning her to face the older gentleman she'd brought along that evening.

"C.C., I'd like to introduce you to Lionel Murray. If this evening goes well, he is considering investing in your work."

The producer put out her hand to shake his, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murray."

"Likewise, C.C.!" Lionel gripped her hand firmly and smiled. "Your mother has told me all about you, and I have no reason to believe that your company will not be getting any backing from me."

Niles watched gladly as, for the first time that evening, C.C. properly beamed, "That is wonderful news! I…"

The producer was about to continue, but she suddenly stopped, and turned to him, blinking.

"Is there something else you needed, Niles?" she asked.

Her words just about got through to him, disrupting the slight reverie he'd been in from blissfully observing her start up the process of conducting a business arrangement, and he shifted on the spot to shake himself out of it fully without anyone noticing.

"…I was merely going to say that I am just about ready to serve the first course, Miss Babcock."

It wasn't exactly a lie – the salads _were_ ready to be served – and it was certainly better than standing there and saying nothing.

C.C. clasped her hands together in delight, "Oh! Excellent, then we'll take our seats now."

"As you wish," Niles bowed his head, and went back to the kitchen whilst his employer announced to her guests that dinner was ready.

* * *

Soon, all the guests were seated around the table, enjoying their food and wine. Their host was there too, but she was busy listing all the places she'd rather be in her head. The evening had slowly gotten worse from the moment they'd all sat down to eat their first course. Having B.B. and D.D. around the same table together hadn't been her best thought-through idea, that much was certain. Getting them in the same place and having the same conversation meant that the barbed comments towards the producer were now both twofold _and_ defended from either side.

She knew how much her sister wanted to emulate their mother, but this was getting ridiculous. The producer hadn't been able to say one thing back to either B.B. or D.D. without being accused by one or the other of needing to lighten up. Not that there was anything to lighten up over – C.C. didn't really consider the size of her penthouse, the way she was dressed that evening, or the fact that she hadn't settled down with someone yet to be familial banter.

And Noel wasn't being much help, either, by restricting most of his addressed conversation to Edward and to D.D.'s date and only casting sympathetic looks towards his sister. She supposed her brother was just thankful that he wasn't in the firing line for their mother's criticisms or their sister's gleeful jibes that evening.

Niles spent most of the dinner coming in and out of the kitchen, but C.C. was sure he was catching more than snippets of the conversation as he went. B.B. in particular was treating him as though he wasn't there, not even as he served the food on her plate. But she reminded herself that she had more important things to focus on than the way her mother was behaving towards her servant, or even towards _her_ , for that matter. She had to try and bring up the subject of investments with Lionel still, and allowing the two women to just get on with their little cracks about various areas of her life was all she could do.

It was just getting harder and harder to ignore.

"I must say, dear, your butler's culinary skills do certainly compensate for his lack of refined behaviour," B.B. said, inspecting her food with her fork. "Staying in the middle of the room during our conversations, and leaving you to announce to us that dinner was ready, instead of doing it himself! If he were in _my_ employ, well…"

"You know, C.C., you really are lucky to have got yourself someone like Niles at _all_ , really," Noel suddenly announced loudly. "Finding help in this city is nigh-on impossible these days."

Relieved for the successful interruption from what her mother had been saying (as they had both known B.B. might have paused, but that didn't mean she was finished), the producer turned to her brother, "Oh, have you been searching for your own butler?"

The professor's eyes drifted towards Edward briefly, before settling back on his sister, "There's been some thought on the matter. The house is certainly large enough to accommodate one, and there aren't really enough hours in the day in between teaching classes and grading papers to do much cooking or cleaning, especially in _all_ the rooms."

"You should have downsized, like your sister did," B.B. put down her cutlery and gestured around them. "Seeing as it _is_ only _her_ living here, the smaller amount of room makes more sense."

"It isn't only me here, Mother," C.C. replied calmly, looking down to the food on her plate. "Niles lives here, too."

"My dear, as long as a servant is under the roof of their employer, they are not living, they are _working_ ," B.B. rested a condescending hand on her daughter's arm, and spoke as though she felt she was correcting some mistake C.C. had made, before bringing her voice down to a stage whisper. "Not that such matters are _really_ any of our concern."

A noise which sounded like words being muffled by a cough came from behind them, and both women turned around to look at Niles – the older woman slightly more briskly than her daughter.

"I beg your pardon?" B.B. asked him, a flash of irritation in her eyes.

The butler straightened up, "Madam?"

"I thought you said something. What was it?" she asked again.

"I haven't said anything, Madam," he replied innocently.

"Hm. Perhaps I was mistaken," B.B. frowned deeply, her voice becoming brusque. "Just don't expect me to be mistaken twice."

She hadn't been mistaken in the first place, C.C. thought to herself. Niles had not-so-clearly muttered something about how the only things which _really_ mattered to B.B. had dollar signs in front of them. But the producer let it go; if her mother hadn't heard it clearly enough, she wasn't going to ruin the evening by bringing it out in the open. The butler turned and went back into the kitchen without another word soon after, and her mother gave a small snort of indignation.

"I'm sure your brother will find a much more sophisticated level of hired help for his own home," she told C.C., smiling. The producer knew it wasn't a loving smile.

There was a part of C.C. which wanted to argue that Niles _was_ sophisticated enough for his job in the penthouse, but she also knew just exactly where _that_ kind of talk would get her.

Instead, she softly replied as she stabbed her fork into her barely-touched food, "I'm sure."

"Didn't your butler used to work for Maxwell Sheffield, C.C.?" D.D. piped up, the glee she was experiencing barely restrained in her features.

C.C. nodded, "Yes, he did."

"Oh! I thought I recognised him somewhat. Well, that explains it, anyway. That entire family has gone downhill ever since Maxwell hired that dreadful woman – and from _Queens_ , no less!" B.B. rolled her eyes back and lay a hand over her heart, as though the very idea offended her to the point of pain. "But you are just like your father, dear. Headstrong in business and ever the loyal follower until you get what you want. Has Maxwell considered making you a full partner, yet?"

The producer slid one of her hands under the table, clenching her fist in frustration, "No, not yet."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure it's only a matter of time," B.B. took a sip of her wine, looking at her daughter over the edge of the glass. "We wouldn't want all those years and dollars spent in you being educated going to waste now, would we?"

"Of course not," C.C. agreed, her straight face wavering.

She had to get out of there. Even if only for a few moments. Just to regroup. And maybe stop feeling like she'd rather put her head through a sheet of glass than eat at that table with those people for one second longer. She put down her cutlery, scooped her napkin out of her lap and dumped it on the table surface, and pushed her chair out to get to her feet.

"If you would all excuse me for a minute, I'll be right back."

She went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. It wasn't enough distance really – she could still hear her guests laughing from the other room. She walked across to the sink, and leaned her hands on the edge of the basin, staring at herself in the mirror.

"You can do this. You've got this," she told her reflection. "You've done _far_ worse for the company."

She quickly shut out the voice in her head which sounded like Niles listing just exactly _what_ she had "done" for the company. Both because she didn't need another round of criticism, and because it wasn't particularly fair on the butler – he'd been doing his job well that evening, and she needed to give him some credit for that. She knew he was probably resenting having to serve a woman like her mother, and doing his job almost perfectly – she could live with a couple of muttered remarks that most people had missed – was enough to convince her that if _he_ could live with what was being said at that table, then so could she.

She just had to stay where she was for a little while, take a few deep breaths and calm herself down, and then go back in. The backing Lionel could provide would be more than worth the slights her mother and sister were enjoying making at her expense. It would only be a little longer until the guests were due to leave, anyway. She could make it for another hour or so if she really pushed herself.

She had to do it. Nothing could screw this up now.

The producer was about to open the door and head back to the table in a calm and serene fashion when, suddenly, there came a resounding crash from the other room. It was immediately followed by a horrified screech, the raising of voices, and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

Throwing open the door, C.C. immediately rushed back into the room, astounded at what she found.

The table was in disarray; the chairs had all been pushed out and the guests were on their feet and gathering around her mother, who appeared to be in shock for some reason; meals were abandoned as what appeared to be a dark liquid had splashed across the surface, into plates and onto the floor, which was also littered with broken china. Niles stood to one side of B.B., looking afraid, and an empty tray in his hands.

"What the hell is going _on_ in here?!" the producer demanded.

"We're dealing with your stupid servant throwing coffee over our mother, that's what's going on!" D.D. snapped, making her way around the table to aid Lionel in helping B.B. stand upright.

"What?!" C.C. practically shrieked.

"You heard what she said!" D.D.'s date shouted. "That idiot just practically poured the coffee over B.B.! She could've been _scalded_!"

"That's exactly right!" concurred B.B., her voice coming back to her and becoming increasingly incensed as she turned, soaked in coffee, towards Niles. "Don't you have anything to _say_ for yourself, you imbecile?!"

"I…um…" was all the butler managed to stutter out, his eyes darting between the guests, as though one might be able to offer him some sort of lifeline or way out. No such help came.

"Oh, so _now_ he's _actually_ speechless!" B.B. scoffed, before returning to scrutinising the stain spreading rapidly across the fabric of her dress and mournfully remarking about how much it had cost. Not that the producer was really listening to that.

She couldn't believe what Niles had just done.

After she'd thought he was making an effort, it had all come down to nothing.

He'd probably been setting her up all along, and was just waiting for his moment.

She felt a sudden twinge in her chest, but she couldn't tell if it was because the dinner was ruined, or because she'd trusted him to make sure it wouldn't be and he'd let her down in the worst way possible.

Through the silence, D.D. cleared her throat, "Perhaps it would be more prudent if we excused ourselves?"

Her date checked his watch and made a noise which seemed to suggest agreement, "Maybe that would be for the best, it _is_ getting late-"

The others appeared to be of the same thinking, and slowly began to leave the table. Momentarily leaving her anger with Niles aside and returning to the present moment, C.C.'s heart leapt into her mouth as the others' words sank in. She took a few swift steps forward, gesturing towards the puddle of coffee her mother had left behind after getting up.

"Wait! You don't have to go! It's only a little spill, we can clean it up and everything will be fine!" her voice was high in a clear indication of her panic. She couldn't let the evening finish like this! She turned to the butler, her voice sharp. "Niles, for God's sake; don't just stand there, you moron – go get something to mop this up!"

"Enough! Your sister has quite the right attitude as far as I am concerned, Chastity-Claire! Your incompetent buffoon of a butler has managed to sufficiently ruin this dinner, both with his snide little comments when he thought no one was listening, and with this final display of _spectacular_ unprofessionalism! I am _finished_ with this evening!" everyone had stopped in their tracks to listen to B.B. yell and wave her hands in a ceasing manner. Then, with a deep breath in, her voice became quieter, if no less angry. "Noel, if you would please escort us back to the hotel?"

"C-certainly, Mother. I…" the professor glanced warily between an apprehensive-looking Niles and a glaring C.C., "I have a feeling the party might have just ended, anyway."

The guests continued to move away, this time at a faster pace. Suppressing her anger for the moment, C.C. urgently tried to call them back, but found no success. The last person she managed to address was Lionel.

"Mr. Murray! We completely forgot! What about the investment, for Sheffield-Babcock Productions?" she asked hopefully, the desperation evident in her voice.

The older gentleman looked sheepish as he edged his way around the chairs, "About the backing…let's just see how your company's next play goes, and then I'll make a decision, alright?"

The producer's face fell. Their next production wasn't even fully contracted yet – it would be ages before it was ready for showing! He couldn't really be saying "no" over this one dinner, could he? But, as much as she would have liked to beg him to reconsider, she was too stunned to move or speak as the guests gathered their coats and left, muttering amongst themselves (B.B.'s voice louder and considerably more upset than the others) and not really attempting to bid C.C. any kind of farewell. The last one out the door was Noel, who sent an apologetic look in their direction before he exited the penthouse in silence.

As the front door closed, an uneasiness settled over both servant and employer as they looked at each other across the dinner table – one seeming slightly cowed, the other fuelled by the rage of a dinner party gone disastrously wrong and a business deal off the table for good.

The only sounds in the room were the last of the spilled coffee dripping off B.B.'s vacated chair onto the floor, its timing out of sync with the clock that ticked on the wall.


	11. They Think It's All Over

**Hey there, everyone! Well, I'm settling in more at CSU Long Beach, and I've been working on this chapter in my time between assignments so it's finally ready! I apologise for the wait, especially after leaving it where I did. I do hope you all enjoy it. I love knowing that you guys like the stuff that I write, it really cheers me up when I'm feeling down!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or any of its characters, settings, etc.**

* * *

Waiting for the fallout seemed an age to Niles. He wanted to look away from C.C., but he couldn't. The woman was a ticking time bomb, and she'd explode any second – at him, for everything that had just happened.

It would be well deserved, too. What had he been _thinking_?! Well, it was obvious he wasn't thinking at all. How could he be so _senseless_? He'd tried so hard to make sure Miss Babcock's dinner party was perfect, and yet _he'd_ been the one to spoil it!

He'd just gotten so angry with B.B., he couldn't help himself! The producer's mother had chosen to up her game when it came to snide comments as soon as her daughter had left the room. " _If this is how she acts under the slightest bit of pressure, it's no wonder Maxwell hasn't offered her a full partnership yet_ ". " _Perhaps she's gone to get changed. That old thing she was wearing is hardly suited to a modern woman of class and good taste_ ". " _She's taking so long in there, maybe by the time she gets back she'll have found a husband_ ".

That had been the final straw.

"What the hell did you just do?" the producer's voice was low, and very dangerous, and it brought him back to the present.

He wanted to explain, to tell her what B.B. had been saying, and that he hadn't meant to ruin the evening but his anger had gotten the better of him. But the way C.C. was looking at him made it near impossible to _speak_ , let alone tell her everything that had happened.

He felt himself shrinking away as he tried to stammer out anything resembling a coherent explanation, "I-I just thought that-"

She didn't give him time to finish, cutting off his words angrily, "How could you embarrass me like that? In front of some of New York's social elite? In front of my _family_?!"

He wanted to argue back about how her _family_ had had no qualms when it came to embarrassing her. Surely getting backing for the company wasn't worth _that_ kind of humiliation? Niles felt a rush of anger towards the others who had been present for not trying to defend their host, or – even worse – for joining in, like D.D. had. Suddenly he understood what kind of emotion he'd been feeling when he'd thrown the coffee, and his rage began to fuel his voice.

"I was trying to-"

"Trying to what? Have some fun at my expense? Well, you certainly managed _that_ , Niles! You've just destroyed my chances at getting that backing for the company, so you must be _creasing up_!" C.C. shouted over him before he could finish, gesturing with one hand wildly. "And to think I gave you the benefit of several _thousand_ doubts by hiring you!"

Her words were laced with venom, a dull ache settled inside him where his fury had been, and his next attempt at defending himself died before it reached his lips. In the beginning, he thought Miss Babcock had hired him simply for the purposes of torturing him, but this made it seem like she'd given it a great deal of thought. She'd put her unspoken trust in him over what they said or did to each other day-to-day, and in the course of one swift move, he'd destroyed that trust completely.

In the immediate aftermath of her outburst, C.C. briefly pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily, "You know, between the stopping of the more hurtful physical pranks, and that time you took care of me when I was sick, and the way you've actually been pretty great at your job these past few weeks, I really thought we'd moved past that stage in our relationship. I really thought that maybe, _just_ _maybe_ , you cared enough to let this evening go well for me. But it's obvious now. You were just setting me up."

The accusatory tone to her voice wounded him – and took its toll even further on his efforts at arguing – all the more.

She truly believed he had been planning this; that he had never wanted to be a good servant to her, that he had been plotting this all along, that he didn't care about her…

That he didn't…

His own thoughts trailed off as he tried once more, weakly, "I…I just-"

The producer shook her head lightly before turning on her heel, "Don't even bother."

She stormed away, and Niles flinched as her bedroom door slammed.

She hadn't told him to leave, or that he didn't have a job any more – not _yet_ , anyway – but this felt a lot worse than the door closing behind him at the Sheffield mansion. That had been gentle, and almost reluctant. This was forceful, and the air of rejection which now permeated the room was overpowering, causing a surge of pain straight through his chest.

This was probably it for them. He could feel it, and every thought in his head was related to it.

He'd tried to move on when he'd left the Sheffield mansion, but he just couldn't say no when Miss Babcock had offered him a job.

Before, he'd have thought it was because he was desperate.

Now, he understood perfectly. His only desperation was to be around her.

And now, he was on the brink of losing that connection – losing _her_ – all because of his own foolish actions. The remnants of which he now had to clean up.

But before he did, he gave one attempt at saying something – anything he could think of that could justify what he'd done.

He wanted to, even if it meant saying the words to an empty, unfeeling room.

"I just wanted to protect you."

* * *

Upon reaching her bedroom and with the door now definitely shut behind her, C.C. leaned against the wood and exhaled heavily. She felt a little winded, no doubt from the loss of adrenaline after yelling at Niles.

But she didn't feel angry anymore. Not at _him_ , anyway. Her mother and sister, on the other hand, had been infuriating. They still were, even though they'd long gone. She began to pace the room, up and down, every single backhanded compliment and outright insult that they'd said to her going through her head. She remembered the looks on their faces, the looks on the faces of the other guests, and she remembered how desperate she'd been to keep it together and get the backing that Lionel Murray had originally offered. And all the while she'd been feeling her patience slipping away…

Well, no wonder she'd been irritated to the point of snapping at the butler!

She stopped where she was, something occurring to her.

Had that entire scene she'd just caused simply been because she was upset at how B.B. and D.D. had been treating her, when all she wanted to do was get through the dinner and procure the investment?

Had she just needed a verbal punching bag, and her servant happened to suffice because he was still there?

She frowned deeply.

She'd said a lot of stuff that she didn't really mean, that was for sure.

She'd said she'd had doubts about hiring him. That wasn't true at all, in spite of their usual behaviour and apparent general attitude towards each other.

She'd practically said she didn't trust him anymore, when she'd said that he'd just been setting her up. From the look on his face as she'd declared it, that obviously wasn't true either. Neither one of them really spoke about their feelings openly, but they knew when the other one was lying to them, and he hadn't been hiding anything when he'd put the entire evening together.

Her eyes widened as she continued to think over her speech.

She'd also said " _that stage in our relationship_ ".

That was something she'd tried not to think about before, not really and truly think about since the day she'd defended him against Maxwell. But it had just slipped out again.

Come to think of it, where did she _actually_ think her relationship with the butler was supposed to be at this point?

She glanced around her, as though fearing someone might be in the room, and therefore privy to her private, unvoiced thoughts.

She wasn't at work, she had nothing else she should be thinking about at that moment. Perhaps it was time to finally figure a few things out. At least privately.

She knew that she and Niles had sort of…become more than servant and employer over the past few weeks.

Screw it, she was alone and could give credence to this train of thought; she knew they'd actually really been friends for a while now. The whole boundary between servant and employer had become misaligned, to say the least…

But was there more to it than just that?

She had been thinking about him an awful lot recently. The way he would prepare her favourite breakfast if he knew she had an important meeting or tough workload scheduled that day (even if he'd then try to deny it was for that reason). The shouts across the penthouse of "Hate you more!", (which had come to serve as their farewells for the morning) after he found some important document she'd put down in her rush and neglected to pick up and return to her bag. Being able to come home at night and knowing he'd be there, preparing dinner, and would actually genuinely ask about how her day had been…

She caught herself smiling at the little things he had been doing to make her life at home seem…well, not so empty.

The more she thought about the things she would have tried to shut out before, the more the answer to all her questions became clear, and a pang of guilt shot through her.

She _had_ been more than a little hard on Niles.

Okay, that was a gross understatement, even in her _own_ head. After all, she hadn't been in the room – what happened could very well have been an accident. She knew her mother; it _would_ be like B.B. to blow everything out of proportion and when _she_ got riled up, D.D. would only follow. And even if it _was_ on purpose – she'd seen some of the glances Niles had been giving B.B. after the woman had made some malicious comment or other – it wasn't like the producer hadn't thought about doing the _very same thing_ at least once or twice in her life!

Even from when she was young, it had been painfully obvious how selfish and shallow her mother could be. What else could you call a woman who took her daughter to Paris for her tenth birthday (and by doing so appear to win the "best parent" game against her ex-husband), but then proceeded to spend nearly all her time out in the city, at upmarket restaurants and clubs, leaving her daughter alone in their hotel room when she'd finished taking her for an hourly shop every day? C.C. still remembered looking out over the streets of the French capital for the better part of that entire week, the Eiffel Tower that sweet distance between achingly close and disappointingly far away, ignoring the bags of things that had been bought earlier on, and wondering if her mother would come back soon, or if she'd have to order room service again.

She also remembered the other gift she'd gotten from B.B. that year – a vintage handheld mirror, cast in silver. B.B. had told her, if she was smart enough about it, eventually all she'd need to get anywhere in life was in that mirror. Of course, C.C. understood what she meant _now_ , but for a ten-year-old, that lesson had seemed as cryptic and incomprehensible as the Dead Sea Scrolls.

She could see the mirror from where she was at that moment, too; it was on top of her dresser, under the window. But she turned away. Looking at it right then was making her eyes sting.

The producer seated herself on the edge of her bed, head in one hand, palm resting against her cheek and elbow balanced on her leg. She didn't want to end up like her mother. No real warmth or genuine human affection came from that woman.

Maybe she had wanted to be like that, at one stage in her life. But that was a long time ago.

At least, it _felt_ like a long time ago.

But ever since she'd hired Niles, everything that came before felt like it had taken place in another lifetime.

She sat up straighter, and her arm fell away to her side as she thought. Forgiving the butler would go quite a way to proving that she wasn't going to become a carbon copy of B.B.. And if they _were_ friends, even in the _least_ , then friends deserved a chance to explain themselves.

But what if he didn't want to see her, now? It wasn't like she could just go barging back in to apologise – after an eruption like that, she was surprised the butler hadn't immediately blown up right back at her, and removing herself from him would only give him time to prepare his own selection of insults. By that stage, it would be too late to try and say anything that didn't involve mocking each other in some way, and nobody would win in _that_ hellish little contest.

She bit her lip, agonising over the possibility.

Still, she felt she had to do _something_. Not that she was completely sure of what that _was_ …

Glancing behind her towards her waiting bed, she let out a defeated breath. It was late, and she was overthinking everything because she'd worried and then shouted herself into exhaustion.

The only clear course of action she could see was to sleep on it, and hope that she'd have a better idea of what to do by the morning.


	12. Sorry is the Hardest Word

**Hey there, everybody! I'm sorry about the wait for this, university life is keeping me busy. I must also apologise because I have had this ready for about four days now, but I wanted to wait until today because not only is today the 23rd anniversary of the pilot episode of The Nanny, it is also my 21st birthday.**

 **Please enjoy the chapter - reviews make excellent birthday presents!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, any of the characters, or settings, etc.**

* * *

The producer was up and about before Niles was the next morning. He heard the front door closing as he was getting dressed, and when he went to check on the noise, he found the penthouse empty. Apart from Chester eagerly awaiting his breakfast by the entrance to the kitchen, that is.

As the butler had hurried in, he'd been hoping that the mail had just come early, woken C.C. up, and she'd gone to retrieve it and maybe give the courier a piece of her mind before going back to bed for a little while, until her breakfast was ready. Then he would run into her, and he could try to explain properly, and apologise – he'd thought about what he'd say all night; that he'd let his emotions get the better of him, that he'd never meant to ruin her evening, and that he wanted very much to continue being her butler, if she would allow it.

And, if he was feeling brave, he'd take in a deep breath and start the conversation that even Noel seemed to think was long overdue, by telling her that he cared about her too much to want to set her up like that.

He only needed the opportunity to say it.

But that was too much to ask, really. She wasn't there, and probably didn't want to see him. And a large part of him wasn't surprised. The thought of it just stung, that was all.

She'd still left him a list of things to do, though. He briefly considered that a good sign, until he realised the tasks were all numbered, and involved locations outside the apartment. They were all going to take some time as well, and he bitterly came to the conclusion that she must have decided to both leave _and_ come home early that day, and just didn't want to see him around the penthouse.

It was almost like she was having a dry-run for him not being there at all, and his worst fear was all but confirmed by the very last note on the page.

 _"_ _Don't make dinner plans for tonight."_

That obviously meant she was going to tell him to go when he got back.

On any other day, for any other person, he probably wouldn't have bothered with the list. He would have packed his suitcase, written and signed a letter of resignation, and left then and there. But no matter what had gone on between them both before and after he'd come to work for her, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't leave her like that – not without an apology that he truly meant. So he decided to complete each of the tasks Miss Babcock had left for him that morning, hoping it would be some form of recompense for the way he'd behaved, and resolved to take whatever verbal abuse she gave him before terminating his employment.

He left food out for the dog, made himself a very quick breakfast, cleaned everything away, and picked up an umbrella in order to head outside. The weather forecast he'd been watching on the television as he ate had predicted rain for the entire day, and being cold and wet wasn't something he wanted to add to his list of reasons to be miserable that morning.

Despite the dismal autumn weather, there were plenty of people out in the city. Niles watched them all as he moved from place to place amongst a sea of multi-coloured umbrellas, ticking things off the list he held in his hand as every chore was completed. Businessmen and women, phones glues to their ears as they rushed off to their offices. Shoppers, laden with bags from big department stores and supermarkets, making haste towards their cars or the subway, some calling out for cabs. A couple, laughing and joking, each with one arm wrapped around the other as they made their way happily through the streets.

He tried to ignore them, and continued on his way. The list didn't seem to be growing any shorter, no matter how fast he ticked off each item on it. At this rate, it would be dark outside before he made it back.

* * *

He was right about his assumptions. The city was lit by buildings and streetlights as he finally crossed off the last item and turned to head back. The rain had eased off at long last, but this slight improvement in the weather didn't cheer him any as he dragged his feet in the direction of the penthouse.

It wouldn't be long now.

As he walked, he planned what he would do for that evening in his head. After the part he was particularly dreading, at any rate. Once she was done firing him, he'd pack as quickly as possible, take a cab back to the YMCA where he had stayed before, leave his things in the room they gave him, and then go out and find somewhere still open that was cheap and sold hot food. He didn't care what it was. He was just thankful that Miss Babcock had paid him whilst he'd worked for her – it meant he'd been able to save up a little to add to the little he already had, and he could start the cycle of looking for jobs and apartments during the day again.

He eventually reached his destination, and he looked up towards the highest point of the building. It was too far up for him to see if there were lights on inside, but he knew he'd only really and truly stopped to check in order to delay the inevitable. He knew she'd be there, ready and waiting for him to open the door, a barbed comment ready and waiting on her tongue.

He took one more step towards the entrance. And another. And another. Every step seemed to get harder, and he felt himself going back on his promise to just accept her firing him.

He didn't _want_ to go. He didn't want to leave her…

With a groan that told of the agony inside him, he straightened his back and continued to walk. He had to be brave. He knew he deserved what was coming to him, and he couldn't stop it from happening just by remaining outside.

Remembering and going over his plan of action to help keep his breathing steady, he opened the front door to the building and stepped inside. Just about acknowledging the friendly greeting from the doorman, he made his way to the elevators.

The ride up seemed to take as long as going through the list had.

Despite the rain and the crowds and the exhaustion gained from having to work so hard, the butler would have given anything for that list to not be complete, so he would have an excuse to go back out and continue his tasks.

So he could still say he worked for her, just for a little longer.

But his wish was denied with the soft 'ding' of a bell, and the elevator doors opening into the hallway.

He couldn't have explained how he made it to the front door of the penthouse – he was working on autopilot, and his feet carried him without feeling. He stared at the door for a long time, imagining what Miss Babcock had in store for him the moment he was on the other side. Would she start calm and then get louder? Would she start loud and _stay_ loud? Should he prepare to duck, in the event of thrown objects?

He sighed at his own thoughts. It didn't matter _how_ it happened, really. None of it changed anything in the long run.

Taking a deep breath in, he took out his key – which by tomorrow would be back under the doormat – and inserted it into the lock.

He gripped the handle tightly to ease his sudden shaking, and he opened the door.

None of his thoughts or feelings over the course of the day could have prepared him for what he found inside.

* * *

The lights of the penthouse had been dimmed, and most of the brightness in the room came from two strategically placed candles on the dining table, which he could see had already been set, complete with a bottle of wine.

But there were two places set, and two glasses instead of one, as there usually would be.

Without looking at it, he dropped his umbrella in the stand by the door and quirked an eyebrow in confusion. The entire apartment appeared to be ready for some sort of intimate evening.

Did Miss Babcock have a date that night?

A painful feeling swelled in his chest as his face fell. Was she _really_ planning on firing him, and then rubbing it in by entertaining some mystery man, whom she had only likely met recently, given that she had never mentioned him before?

As she stepped out of her room, the feeling inside him only got worse; her makeup was freshly done and perfect, the long red dress she wore hugged at her curves, and the way she'd swept her hair back into a bun left her neck exposed. Everything about her was beautiful, and sensuous, and completely and utterly devastating.

 _And she was walking in his direction._

Niles could feel his heart in his mouth, and he swallowed to no avail. This was it – she was about to send him packing, and she'd dressed her most dangerously to do so, before she spent the evening with someone the butler couldn't help but envy even though he'd never met him and never would, either…

The producer stopped a few feet from him.

Niles held his breath, and – to his astonishment – C.C. offered him a small smile, her hands folded together neatly in front of her. She shrugged, and her voice came out a gentle chuckle when she spoke.

"Surprise...!"

It took a few moments for what she'd said to register with the butler. He blinked slowly, his mouth opening and closing until his mind decided that now would be a good time to try saying something.

"I'm sorry?"

Whether he'd just tried to apologise for everything that had happened before, or if he was asking for clarification, even _he_ didn't know.

"I said "surprise", Niles! Can't you at least try to look a _little_ happy about all of this?" C.C. gestured around her.

The butler could only blink in return, "…Aren't you going to fire me?"

The producer looked down at herself, and then around the room and back at him again, "Does anything here _look_ like that's what I had in mind? Why would you think that?"

"Because…I, uh…the coffee…and…and your mother, uh, incident…" Niles stammered, pulling the list out of his pocket to show her. "A-and the list you left me! It was so long, I thought that maybe, perhaps…"

He trailed off, feeling more than a little foolish for his attempt at an explanation. The last part of his evidence on its own seemed ridiculous, even as he said it. He dumped the piece of paper on the side table and turned away from it, back towards her. A long list didn't mean anything, really, apart from the fact that there was a lot to do that day, and that he read into things too much.

His still current employer was taking it all surprisingly well, though; her face had become one of understanding, and she didn't appear as though she were about to start openly mocking him for his fears any time soon.

"Well, I had to keep you busy for a few extra hours while I set all this up, didn't I?" she shrugged, folding her arms and lowering her gaze to the floor. "I'm not firing you. As it so happens, this is actually an attempt at an apology."

Niles shifted from one foot to the other. His face was feeling oddly warm, "Oh…well, I think this outweighs my attempt at apologising by completing the list."

The producer looked up at him again and waved one hand dismissively, "Honestly, Niles, you don't have to apologise for anything."

"I wish I felt the same way _you_ do! I should never have let myself get so carried away; your mother was just…" he trailed off, sighing and gesturing, before managing to finish his thought. "Some of the comments she made, I just felt I had to defend you."

C.C. bit her lip, and nodded, "Yeah, I thought that might've been what you were trying to do."

Niles frowned, "Then, if I might ask…why didn't you _say_ anything, or give me a chance to explain?"

"I don't know; I was angry at the way the evening had gone, and I needed to take it out on somebody, I guess," she replied, looking more than a little embarrassed. "I'm just…sorry that somebody was you."

The butler shook his head, "There's no need for _you_ to apologise, either…I know how it feels to take out frustrations on people who might not always deserve it."

The shame slowly drained away from the producer's face as she began to understand what he was saying, and was replaced by a look of triumph, "…Niles, is that an apology for not only last night, but also everything you've ever done to me?"

He pretended to consider, "…Let's not go so far as to say "everything"."

"Alright. Just _most_ things, then," she teased, before turning on her heel and heading for the dining area. "I guess it's only fair though, isn't it, seeing as I'm treating you to dinner tonight?"

Niles followed her to the table, barely holding back a beaming grin. There was a part of him which wondered if he hadn't actually dropped dead in the elevator, and this was his reward in Heaven.

Not that it really and truly mattered if it _was_ – it was the best reward he could possibly imagine, after all. He wasn't going to question it; he was going to enjoy it for all it was worth.

And he was going to start by resuming exactly where they'd left off before all the mess at the dinner party.

He stopped in his tracks, feigning shock as he placed his hand over his heart, "Dinner? _You?_ I wish I'd known sooner; I'd have taken out some health insurance."

"Cheap shot, Hazel. Be careful with your next one, or you won't get dessert," C.C. lightly scolded, pointing one finger at him in a jokingly warning way, before pulling out one chair and heading towards the kitchen. "I ordered in, so you can stop panicking."

His eyes trailed her as she disappeared through the door, "Really? Where did you order from?"

"I called that local Italian place, and they delivered earlier," the producer raised her voice to answer him, and the butler heard the oven door open and close. "I've been keeping it warm and waiting for you."

Within a few moments she re-entered the room, carefully carrying two full plates, and as she saw him still stood there, she blinked at him, her expression becoming somewhat confused.

She indicated with her head towards the pulled-out chair, "You can sit down, you know."

Niles looked quickly between her and the chair a few times, and he pointed at it, "Th-that place is for me?"

"There's two sets of everything, isn't there?" C.C. approached the table, setting one plate in the place she'd designated as his before setting down the other for herself on the opposite side. "No cracks about me _often_ seeing double, either."

The butler gestured vaguely at the seat, "No, it's just…no one's ever pulled a chair out for me before. In my line of employment, it's always been the other way around."

The producer gave him a curious look for an instant, before pulling out her own chair.

"…If it helps, don't think of yourself as "the butler" tonight. We're just two people having dinner, and that's it," she smiled at him, taking a seat. "I don't always have to be a lady, you know."

Niles' eyes travelled over her dress very deliberately.

"Well, I must say that your choice of evening attire certainly reflects _that_ ," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "But I must say I do feel rather privileged that you chose to wear it tonight."

"Don't flatter yourself; I couldn't park outside the mansion, so my clothes got soaked on the walk back to the car and I had to change. I blindly grabbed the first thing in my closet when I got home," C.C. explained, appearing unamused.

The butler watched her thoughtfully, "That surprises me. Anyone who knows you knows how meticulous you usually are about changing."

The producer returned his look, "Well, if I ever have to in the future, I'm certainly gonna be more careful about what I grab."

She offered him wine, and the two soon settled into their meal, the conversation flowing between them smoothly and freely. It wasn't at _all_ like it had been just the previous night, when so many layers of tension seemed to act as barriers between everyone in the penthouse, before the disastrous ending eventually came. And as for _that_ unfortunate incident, it seemed to be all but forgotten about as the producer and the butler got to talking about how life had been at the Sheffield mansion the first few days after Niles had been fired.

"I'm curious. What _was_ the mansion like for that first week?" he leaned forward a little and lowered his cutlery in his eagerness to know.

C.C. smirked at him, " _Paradise._ "

As he took in her reply, Niles slowly sat back in his chair, the edges of a smug grin playing about the corners of his mouth.

"Lost without me, weren't you?"

She tilted her head from side to side in reply, as though weighing up her options, "It _was_ kind of a pain in the ass to have to get myself coffee every morning at first, but it tasted so much better without soap in it that eventually I didn't even think about it."

The smirk that had been forming dropped away from Niles' face, and C.C. grinned at him over the top of her wine glass. She took a sip, and then replaced it on the table.

"But I must give you some credit; I haven't had bad coffee for a long time now – at the mansion, _or_ here," she said quietly.

He shrugged minutely in return, "It seemed the least I could do, considering you offered me a job and a place to live."

She smirked back at him, "The _very_ least."

Niles raised his hands mock-defensively, "Well, you _did_ give me the dustiest room in existence. You should probably give me some credit for not making the next morning's pot of coffee using the cloth I wiped off all the surfaces with."

C.C. let out another laugh. The corners of Niles' mouth curved upwards into a smile at the sound. There was just something so pleasing about it, and he lowered his hands and listened on as she continued.

"Maybe I should," she agreed, before turning her attention back to her plate, and scraping up a forkful of her dinner.

Niles did the same, and soon both were finished with their meals. With the candles on the table blown out and the dishes packed off to the kitchen, the pair retreated to the living room. C.C. turned on the stereo as they went in, and it wasn't long before the two had taken to dancing, their ears perking up as the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald began to sweep over them.

"This is kind of familiar, isn't it?" C.C. smiled softly.

Niles quirked an eyebrow, knowing what she was referring to, "You mean the Broadway Guild Awards?"

The producer nodded, "Mm-hm."

"The dancing afterwards," the butler said, twirling her slowly.

"By the fireside at the Sheffields'," she carried on.

He pulled her close again, "And I dipped you-"

She joined in, the slight smile she had been wearing slowly fading away, "And you brought me up too quickly-"

Niles winced minutely, remembering the moment, "And we smacked our heads together-"

C.C. continued, "And then we stumbled around for about fifteen minutes-"

The butler sighed, "Each blaming the other for causing it to happen…"

He trailed off as they both remembered that night. He wouldn't have realised it at the time, but he understood now that he'd brought her out of it so quickly out of sheer enthusiasm. He'd been enjoying it so much and he'd wanted so much for it to continue…

He wondered how different things would be _now_ if he hadn't been so careless _then_.

Both were silent, and C.C.'s gaze slowly drifted towards the floor as they swayed to the rhythm of the music, "I'll bet you wish you didn't tear up your cheque after that."

"Funnily enough, it didn't really matter to me when I was busy scraping through the freezer for a bag of frozen peas to put on my head," he replied, his expression softening as he saw how upset she looked by the mention of the incident. "But no…I don't regret tearing up the cheque. I'm only sorry that the night ended the way it did."

They continued to dance to the end of the song, just like they had done before. But something felt different about it this time.

The dip wasn't perfect in the standard ballroom sense; as Niles brought them – more carefully than before – out of it, they ended up so close together that not a pinprick of light shone between their bodies, sides of noses almost brushing, the gap between their lips achingly small.

He could hear her slightly hitched breathing, which meant for certain that she could hear his, too, and he wanted to ask if her heart was pounding in her chest as forcefully as his own seemed to be.

But he never got the chance. C.C. broke the silence first, "…How _would_ that night have ended, if the dance had ended like this?"

This was it, then. Now was the time. He was going to tell her.

He took in a slow breath, and replied in a murmur, "If I'm being honest, I don't think the night would've ended at all."

"Niles, I've known you for twenty years, and I must say that that was the corniest crap I've ever heard come out of your mouth," she sneered.

It was a half-hearted sneer. They both knew it.

He gazed into her eyes, blue meeting blue as his expression remained serious, "That doesn't make it any less true."

The producer's own look morphed to become as earnest as his, "Are you gonna stand here all night talking, or are you gonna shut up and kiss me?"

His heart leapt inside him at the words, but outside he began to smirk at the slight demand in her tone.

She had been waiting, too.

"As you wish."

He leaned in as her words dissipated the last of his uncertainness and insecurities, and he captured her lips in a fantastic kiss.

It wasn't long before they moved to deepen it, and as C.C.'s hand slid up his arm and along his shoulder to cradle his face and her other arm wrapped fully around his back, his own arms wound around her waist and his hands clutched at her sides to bring her as close as they could possibly get. She opened her mouth in a clear invitation for his tongue, which he accepted eagerly, and they both moaned in their pleasure and enthusiasm for the feeling and the taste of each other's lips and tongues as they gripped each other tightly, neither willing to let go.

But the need for air soon overcame them, and C.C. dragged her teeth over his lower lip hungrily as they pulled apart, gasping for breath. As soon as Niles had caught his back, he turned his attention to planting smaller, soft kisses along her jaw, all the way up to her ear, as C.C. ran her lips over his neck.

"I think that was worth the wait, don't you?" she breathed against his skin.

" _More_ than worth it," he practically growled his agreement. It was worth it a thousand times over, and over again. He'd have happily gone out into the personal depression that was that morning if he'd known what had been in store for him when he'd arrived in the evening. He turned his attention back to her lips, planting more kisses there and allowing his hands to start to wander. C.C. responded fervently, the hand that had been on his face slipping upwards into his hair, and the other moving to explore his chest. The hand that had been tangled momentarily in his locks soon joined it, and her fingers began to work at his loosening his tie and the top buttons on his shirt.

"You know…you don't have to sleep in the guestroom tonight," she purred, the tips of her fingers lightly caressing the skin beneath his clothing as another button surrendered. "If you don't want to…"

"I think you already know what my answer to _that_ is…" he murmured against her ear, before taking her earlobe gently between his teeth and feeling her shiver in delight. His hands roamed further, one snaking up her back as he began to feel his way towards the zipper on her dress…

But before he could get a hold of it, C.C. disentangled herself from his arms and he may or may not have whimpered at the loss of contact, but she lay one finger gently against his lips and took his hand.

"Patience, Hazel. Let's just get somewhere a little more comfortable first…"

She began to pull him in the direction of her bedroom. As they moved, she turned to look at him, her eyes darkened with desire and a seductive smile gracing her lips.

He couldn't help but grin back, allowing himself to be taken there by her, and as they passed through the doorway and she wrapped herself in his arms once more, he kicked the door shut behind them.


	13. The Morning After

**Hey there, everyone! At last, I've managed to finish this chapter! I'm back in the UK for a little while longer (thank goodness for month-long Christmas breaks!), so here's hoping I'll find time to work on some more things while I'm here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. It's something of a filler, but it's important at the same time.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or any of its characters, settings, etc.**

* * *

Not opening his eyes just yet, Niles stretched comfortably and pulled the warm body next to his own closer, kissing the first patch of bare skin his lips encountered – C.C.'s shoulder, he found out, as the producer stirred and the movement forced him to open his eyes and look. At the feeling of his lips on her body, C.C. gave a small, pleasurable moan, stretched, and slowly rolled over to face him. As her own eyes fluttered open, she gave him a beaming smile.

"Good morning," she whispered.

The butler grinned back at her, "It most certainly is."

She reached out to wind her arms around his neck, "It rounded off a pretty good night, too."

Niles leaned away a little, quirking an eyebrow and feigning offence, "Only 'pretty' good?"

A chuckle burst from C.C.'s throat, and she matched his countenance with a grin of her own, "Alright, Mr Big-Shot, what term would _you_ use to describe it?"

Niles pretended to consider for a moment, before relaxing and leaning in, so that his face was mere centimetres from hers. He lazily trailed one hand up and down her back, the tips of his fingers tracing the outline of her spine, and in his mind recalling the events of the previous night; every kiss and every touch, every word either gasped into the others' ear or cried aloud in overwhelming satisfaction.

" _Fantastic_ ," he breathed, enjoying the hitch in C.C.'s breath as his middle finger brushed a particularly sensitive patch of skin. "And I know _you_ would, too."

The producer swallowed, and attempted a straight face, "Well, maybe…"

The butler's grin widened, and he leaned in towards her, but C.C. slipped one hand down onto his chest and stopped him.

"But…I might need a _little_ more convincing before I make a full decision."

Niles' brow furrowed slightly, "How much more convincing?"

"How much time have you got?" C.C. smirked.

He laughed softly, and she took her hand away so he could finally brush his lips against hers. She responded in kind, and for a blissful few moments the pair could only concentrate on exchanging small, soft kisses, and the lightest of touches in just the right places.

But the butler knew that they had to talk further about what had happened between them. He was reluctant at best to try and start the conversation, especially considering the large portion of his brain screaming at him that the events of the night before and their position right now should tell him all he needed to know, but he wanted be absolutely sure that they were both on the same page when it came to their relationship.

He pulled away and tried to speak, "Miss Babcock, I-"

The producer silenced him by placing a finger on his lips, "Niles, after what you did with your tongue last night, I think you can safely risk using it to call me C.C.."

She slipped her finger away from his mouth, slowly dragging her fingertip down his chin, his throat, and settling it on his chest. Niles glanced down at the patch of skin she was touching, and clasped her hand in his.

He smiled softly, "C.C….it feels a little strange, but I like it."

"Good, because if this is gonna work out, you're gonna have to get used to it," she shifted in his arms, resting her head against his as she looked him in the eye. "And…I _do_ want this to work out."

"So do I," he couldn't help but beam, his words barely above a whisper in his delight and relief.

They were exactly where he hoped they'd be, and even if talking further was probably still a good idea, he didn't have to worry about it so much for now.

Well, it was _one_ thing he didn't have to worry about for the time being, anyway.

"Well, now that we've got that straightened out, I must confess being your butler doesn't exactly sound appropriate anymore," he stated, pulling a face. "I suppose I'd better start seeing about a new place of employment."

C.C. shrugged, and replaced her arms around his back, pulling him as close as possible, "No rush. Even if _paying_ you might be a little sordid, I can always use an extra set of free hands around here."

Well, she certainly had _that_ in him, for as long as she wanted them. And he'd be more than happy to still do a few things around the penthouse while she was at work – walking Chester, cooking, and cleaning…well, he'd really just be carrying on doing what he had been before, for the most part. Only now, he'd no longer be receiving payment.

But he took one look at her nestled in his arms as she was and knew that what he had found was far better than payment.

"Mr. Sheffield never gave me such good terms," he joked.

The producer gave a low chuckle in reply.

"I should hope not, otherwise this entire conversation just got awkward for a whole new reason," she tilted her head, as much as lying down would able her to, and gave him a thoughtful look. "Whatever happened with you two, anyway? I just remembered, you never really told me."

The butler looked unsure, and shrugged a little as he sighed, "That's just the point; I don't really know myself."

"Well, when you had the argument, and he threw you out–"

"I left," Niles corrected.

C.C. shook her head lightly, "Doesn't matter which way round that part happened. What led up to that moment?"

He thought it over aloud, "I…well, it all happened so fast…I'd gone in because I'd been going over some terms of my employment, and I wanted to discuss what was going to happen about my retirement plan."

The producer blinked, "Retirement plan?"

"Well, I wouldn't be able to work as a butler forever. There are some things that, eventually, I'll just be too old to do," Niles explained. "I wasn't planning on retiring for some time, but I wanted to make sure we agreed over the eventual arrangement. I suppose I must have said something which upset him, because all of a sudden, he started to raise his voice and tell me how good I had it, compared to some servants. That I should be grateful for what I had. I replied that I was, only…I might have also said that he might, occasionally…return the sentiment."

"In those exact words?" C.C. asked.

He dropped his gaze away from her face, "Probably not those exact ones, no."

"Oh," she said, sounding a little disappointed. "And then…?"

"Well, you know roughly what happened next."

"Yeah, I guess I do," she sighed. "It still bothers you, doesn't it?"

It did. How could it not? He'd left the home he'd shared with a family he'd cared for…they'd been his constant for most of his life. He'd been Maxwell Sheffield's closest childhood friend, he'd followed him to America and been there to help when Maxwell had met and married Sara, and then again with the birth of the children…he'd done all he could when Sara had been taken from them, and continued to do so when Miss Fine had arrived and eventually became the new Mrs Sheffield.

They had been as close to him as if they were his own family, even if Maxwell had said otherwise. They had both said things that day that the both of them probably regretted – at least, Niles knew _he_ did. For him, leaving things the way they were left a deep sense of lingering guilt.

Just as much as thinking about it when he had been truly enjoying his time at the penthouse did.

"More than I feel comfortable admitting, really. Especially considering that things have been so good, here with you," he frowned. "I suppose I just feel guilty for things ending the way they did."

"What about working for them? Do you miss that?"

He almost couldn't look her in the eye as he answered her question, "Sometimes. I miss being able to watch the children come in from school and being able to ask about how they're doing. I miss seeing everyone gathered around a table to celebrate a meal, or seeing everyone enjoying themselves at a party. Most of all, I miss having someone to talk to during the day, when you're at work. It's not easy, saving up all those zingers for whenever you walk in the door, you know, especially if there's traffic and you come in later than usual…"

He trailed off as he noticed that she didn't appear upset by his admission. He had been thinking that she might be at least a _little_ put out by the fact that he had just confessed he still missed being at the Sheffields', but she was actually giving him a contemplative look. In her eyes, he could see something which told him she was rapidly becoming pleased with herself, too.

His eyebrow cautiously raised, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" C.C. blinked.

Niles gave her a slightly-amused-even-if-unimpressed look, "Like you've just thought of something that you think will be a brilliant idea."

"No reason," as she casually ran her fingers along his arm, she wore a knowing smile, and it made any lingering doubt that she was hiding something disappear. "It's just that I don't think all hope is lost just yet."

"Am I allowed to know what you mean by that?" he asked.

She grinned at him, "You will be. But not right now."

He could have pressed her further on the issue, but he was far too comfortable to potentially ruin it by taking anything too far. What they had now was so new, so fresh, and so very much wanted, that he wasn't going to risk it all going away when they had only just started.

It would be better to move the subject onto something else.

"I feel like I might live to regret whatever it is you're not telling me. But alright, I suppose that means I've answered everything you wanted to know," he returned to rubbing his hand up and down her spine. "So now it's my turn, because I've been wondering. Who was the guestroom made up for, before I began using it?"

C.C. shrugged, "No one. Well, no one in particular. I made it up like that when I first moved in. I thought maybe my brother or sister could stay over at some point. I even had this crazy idea that I might make some friends in the city."

Niles smirked in return, "You, friends?"

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Butler Boy," the producer feigned scolding him, barely disguising her own look of amusement. "Anyway, everyone I know either lives here in the city or prefers staying in hotels, and until you came along, it was just...extra space."

His hand slowed in its tracing of her lower back, carefully thinking over everything he wanted to say next. A part of him worried that what he wanted to say was, in some ways, much too forward, given that the penthouse belonged to C.C. and she hadn't given any indication that he was allowed to be involved in any large decisions that affected her apartment. Another part told him to just go for it – he'd spent so long overthinking everything beforehand, he might as well take one chance. He could always pass it off as a joke if she thought it was too much, after all.

Eventually, the second part of him won the day, "Well, I'm sure we can find some other use for it."

"I bet we can," C.C. grinned. "We've got plenty of time, too. It's Sunday. I'm not going anywhere until tomorrow."

"That certainly sounds like a cause for celebration," Niles gave her his own lopsided grin in return, extricating his limbs from hers as he made to sit up and swing his legs out of bed, kicking away his discarded shirt from the previous night as he did. "Perhaps you'd like to start with some breakfast? I might not be your butler anymore, but I am still perfectly capable of preparing something appetising."

C.C. appeared to think for a moment, "Hm…"

She slowly lifted herself up. The bedsheets fell away as she slid up behind him and pressed herself against his back, wrapping her arms around his middle as she purred into his ear.

"Maybe later."

A smirk began to creep onto Niles' face.

Well, if that was what she wanted, he would be more than happy to oblige.

With a low chuckle deep in his throat, he turned around, clambering back onto the bed as he pulled her into his arms and planted his lips on hers.

They both fell back onto the mattress, and it would be closer to lunchtime by the time either of them left it again.


	14. Convincing Maxwell

**Hey, everyone! Well, I've finally had another break to be able to finish this next chapter (university work isn't killing me quite so much at the minute). There is only one more chapter after this, so we're nearly at the end! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or any of its characters, settings, etc.**

* * *

For the next couple of days, C.C. thought about her plan. It was, obviously, to get Niles his job back at the mansion. But she'd also wanted a couple of days just to keep him to herself, without telling anybody else whatsoever, before having to do that.

It was _wonderful_ to be able to come home after a hard day at work and have him waiting, a meal ready on the table, and a head full of fantasies to be played out later that night.

But she knew that couldn't last forever. She knew he wanted to work and that he missed his friends, and that her not putting her plan into action was the only thing separating him from going back to the Sheffields. But, she intended to change all of that very soon.

That particular morning, she'd been busy rushing around trying to get ready for work and bring her plan completely together in her head at the same time. She'd have to talk to Maxwell, of course, and make what she wanted to say good so that he'd listen. Perhaps she could get Nanny Fine, or maybe one of the children, to come in and help her…

She bit her lip, pausing in looking around for her cell phone to think. She'd have to work on what she wanted to say to get them to agree to _that_ , too.

Well, at any rate, she'd have to get to the mansion first. And she couldn't do that until her purse was ready to go. She must have left her phone in the kitchen…

As she walked through the door, she immediately spotted Niles by the counter, hovering over a Tupperware box that he was busy scraping ingredients into. He smiled up at her as he heard her heels on the tiles, and snapped a lid on the box before holding it out to her.

"I packed you a lunch; Mediterranean vegetables and couscous with chicken."

"How very generous of you," she slipped her phone into her purse and took the box, raising an eyebrow amusedly before letting it join the rest of the contents of the bag. "Afraid that the Sheffield's butler might surpass your skills in the kitchen?"

"Can't I do something nice for you without there being an agenda behind it?" he pretended to be unimpressed, but wound his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "Although, I must admit, the thought of you enjoying another man's linguine is somewhat off-putting."

"Believe me, you have _nothing_ to be jealous of," she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, linking them together at the back where his hair began to touch his collar. "There's only one man around here that _I'd_ give a Michelin star to."

"I'm glad to hear it," his hands squeezed her sides, and he pressed his lips to hers.

She welcomed the sensation, and deepened the kiss just enough to meld their lips together completely. Nothing had ever felt quite so right with the world as when they were there, like that.

But she still had to get to work. Being in his arms might have made time _feel_ like it had stopped, but she couldn't help being very conscious of the fact that it really hadn't.

She pulled away, and stroked his cheek tenderly, "I'll be expecting my dinner hot when I get home."

Niles angled his head, and dropped a kiss on her neck, "That's not the _only_ thing you can expect hot when you get home…"

"Sounds good to me," C.C. gave a throaty chuckle, threading her fingers through his hair. "How about I see if I can sneak out a little early? I've had my eye on a nice pair of silk boxers for you and, if I pick them up on my way back, I'd _love_ a little fashion show..."

He gave a low growl in the back of his throat as he brought his lips from her ear to her cheek, "And I'd be perfectly happy to give it to you."

"Well, we _both_ know that," she pecked his lips one more time, and pulled away, heading for the door as she got her bag strap more comfortable on her shoulder. "I'll see you later."

Niles leaned against the counter, and she knew he'd watch her leave, "Have a good day."

If everything went to plan, she would.

* * *

Traffic to the mansion wasn't light, but it was bearable. It gave the producer plenty of time to work on exactly what she was going to say. Never in her life did she ever think she'd have to do something like convince Maxwell to give Niles his job back, but here she was, sat behind the wheel of her car, rehearsing how she was going to do just that.

And she was happy to do it, too. She knew he'd be far happier back at work, seeing the Sheffields and having his friends back, rather than hanging around the penthouse alone all day waiting for her to get home. This way, they could work out a compromise that would make sure everybody was satisfied.

She _hoped_ everybody would be satisfied, anyway. And it must have been true, because she hardly ever thought _that_ if she didn't mean it.

Parking just outside the mansion, she approached the front door with her prepared statements in mind. She felt a little bit like she was going to court, really. Only Niles wasn't on trial and Maxwell had no right to be passing judgement like he did.

That's what made it all the more important that she got him to agree to at least speak to the butler.

She rang the doorbell, and in under a minute, Lawrence had appeared, greeted her, and taken her coat. She had to admit, he was efficient at what he did. But the house had changed since he'd been there, and not necessarily in a good way.

After declining his offer of being announced, he left her to walk into the office by herself and went upstairs to continue his duties. She could see Maxwell at his desk through the open office doors, but C.C. couldn't see anybody else around the living room, which meant no allies for the fight.

Well, maybe not _none_. She had yet to check one final place in the house which seemed to be a gathering area for the various characters who wandered in and out of the mansion. So, making sure that Lawrence wasn't about to come back downstairs, she detoured from the path to the office into the kitchen.

She very nearly audibly sighed in relief when she found Nanny Fine at the table, nursing a cup of tea. The brunette looked round at her when she heard her heels on the tile, raising an eyebrow.

"Somethin' the matter, Miss Babcock?"

"No, no, I, uh…" C.C. calmed herself with a breath. "I need your help with something. It's about Niles."

Fran sighed, and put down her cup of tea.

"Miss Babcock, just do the same thing you'd do _here_ if he puts Mentos in the ice in your soda," the former nanny sounded like she was explaining the simplest thing in the world. "Throw it in his face and get another one. And then later get 'im back by dumping the whole packet in a bottle, closing the lid tight an' waitin' for him to get ta the fridge!"

C.C. shook her head, clutching at her own hands as she paced a little, "No, no, it's nothing like that. Niles has actually been really good at his job with me."

She cast her mind back to the previous night, and the way his hands travelled up her legs, starting to fondle…

She swallowed, " _Damn_ good…"

The brunette woman looked confused, "Then I don't understand; what's the problem?"

"The problem is that…I think he'd be happier here than at the penthouse with me," C.C. explained. "I want to talk to Maxwell, to try and get him his job back, and I need your help convincing him to talk to Niles."

Gently rising from her seat, Fran folded her arms, apparently concerned, "…Miss Babcock, I hate to appear indelicate, but are you still takin' those pills the doctors gave ya after your… _time off_?"

"That was a _medical prescription_ , it only lasted a little while," the producer had to keep herself from snapping in frustration. "Are you in, or not?"

The former nanny nodded, "I will be, when I get an answer ta why you wanna get rid of him."

"I _don't_ want to get rid of him, I want him to be _happy_!" C.C. made an open gesture with her hands. What was so difficult to explain about that?

Fran copied her gesture, leaning in a little as though to punctuate her point, "Since when do you care about him being happy? Isn't makin' him miserable your whole raisin d'etre?"

C.C. rubbed her forehead, "Raison."

"What?" the brunette blinked.

"It's rais _on_ d'e- you know what? That's not the issue here," C.C. shook her head, and waved a hand slightly dismissively. "The issue here is that Niles would be happier working here, and I know that he and Maxwell have a lot to talk about that they're _not_ talking about."

Fran considered her carefully, "Niles told you all of this?"

The producer sighed her reply, looking away towards the floor, "Not in those words, no. But I can see it as well, and I know he misses being here, even if he won't always say so."

"…Miss Babcock, I'm sensing that there's somethin' else goin' on, here. You never talk about Niles like this."

"Yeah, well…things change. People change," C.C. shrugged, looking back up and smiling a little. She didn't, for some reason, feel like admitting this to Fran would be an issue anymore. "Feelings change. And then talking happens."

Fran appeared more than a little interested by it, too, "And _after_ the talking?"

The blonde pursed her lips, pretending to think.

"Not so much talking," she said, starting to smirk. "But a _whole_ lot of other stuff makes up for that."

A look of understanding washed over the former nanny's face, and she prodded the air in C.C.'s direction with one finger, "So, you don't have a butler anymore, but you're still _gettin' service_...!"

"You know it," C.C.'s smirk made a complete appearance, and she clasped her hands together. "So, is that a good enough reason for you to help me out?"

"Absolutely. Oy, my best friend back at his job and happy in all areas! I can't wait," Fran replied excitedly, starting to head for the door. "Will he still be goin' home with you, or will he live here? How is this all gonna work?"

"We'll have to decide all of that when we get him to talk to Maxwell," C.C. followed her, and pushed open the door to the dining room. "I saw him in the office just now, so if we go talk to him, we could get this _all_ straightened out in no time."

There wasn't much chatting on the way to the office. All that could be done later, when everything was over and done with.

C.C. strode into the office with purpose, "Maxwell, we need to talk to you."

Her employer looked up, eyes travelling between her and his wife, and he put down his pen, "…About what, exactly?"

Fran pointed at him, "About the fact that _you_ need to sit down and talk to Niles."

"Oh, bloody hell! I thought we'd all moved gracefully past this subject," Maxwell groaned, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's he done, C.C.? There's obviously a reason you're trying to fob him off on us again."

"I am not trying to 'fob' anyone off on anyone, Maxwell!" C.C. argued back. "Niles is great at what he does. I just happen to think he'd be happier if he was welcome here again."

The British producer looked suspicious, "Since when do _you_ care if he's happy or not?"

"Since-"

Fran interrupted her by approaching the desk and lowering her voice, "Maxwell, honey, there are a few things that should remain between a rich woman and the butler living in her penthouse."

Her husband didn't appear impressed, "And the _wives_ of said rich woman's business associates?"

"Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?" the brunette shrugged.

Maxwell stared at them both for a long time. He seemed to be debating with himself over the whole issue.

Then, all of a sudden, he huffed out a breath and threw his hands up.

"Alright. Fine. If it means so much to the pair of you, I will allow him to come here and I will talk to him," he exclaimed, pointing back at them. "But I cannot promise to do more than that!"

C.C. nodded triumphantly, "That's all we're asking, Maxwell. Thank you."

Fran clapped her hands together delightedly, "Yes, honey, thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now, if we could perhaps start with _company_ business at some point this morning, that would be very much appreciated, C.C.," he returned to his pile of paperwork and the two women exchanged a gleeful look as Fran turned to leave.

"Of course, Maxwell," the blonde answered her employer, diving into her bag for the contract she'd been re-reading the night before, funnily enough just before Niles' lips had brushed her neck and suddenly nothing mattered anymore, let alone the words on the page.

And so they settled themselves in for a morning of work, C.C. barely containing the beaming smile that was threatening to spread itself across her face as she took her usual spot on the loveseat.

It had been so much easier than she'd imagined! She supposed she'd just needed Nanny Fine to back her up, and together they'd managed it. There was also the small added factor of it having been several months now and it was highly likely that Maxwell was less angry than he was trying to appear, but that was beside the point. He'd agreed, and that was all that mattered.

Now all she needed to do was convince Niles to come to the mansion with her. But that wouldn't be too hard.

When she picked up those boxers for him after work, she might just get a _little something_ for herself to slip into as well. Sort of a surprise, to take the edge off what she wanted to ask.

He wouldn't be saying 'no' to anything _all_ evening after that.


	15. Truth Will Out

**Hi there, everyone! Well, I've been back in the UK for a few weeks now (I have finally finished my year abroad, and I have to thank California State University, Long Beach for having me as a student and taking good care of me), and I thought it was about time I finally got this chapter done. It's the last one of this story, and I hope you have all loved reading it for all this time. I can only apologise for the glacial pace at which I update (still!), but time isn't always the easiest thing to come by when in full-time education. But now I am on my summer break, and I am hoping to catch up on a few things, as well as starting a multitude of others. Those will also be projects I hope you guys end up enjoying.**

 **That being said, I have to extend my thanks to some people on this site: CCNilesBabcock, for being the best friend in the entire world and fangirling with me every day; Dizzy28 and kate811, for reviews which never fail to make me laugh with how hilarious and delightful they are; and to EspoirDio, for encouraging me to publish this story in the first place. You are all the best, and I am grateful for all of you.**

 **Anyway, on with the show.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, or any of the characters, settings, etc.**

* * *

Niles was almost one hundred percent certain that this hadn't been a good idea.

Every notion in the world seemed marvellous when it was being purred into one's ear, which itself was being nibbled as lithe hands gripped at one's shoulders. But in the _morning_ , when all of that had finished and the actual _talking_ had to start, it felt more than a little bit like perhaps he'd been duped.

His brain – and at least _one_ other part of his anatomy – kept telling him that it was worth it, but the looks on the faces of the people around him made him doubt that more and more the longer they sat there, no one saying anything.

It had been at least ten minutes that they'd been sat there in Mr Sheffield's office, the door shut and him and C.C. (both on the green loveseat) facing Fran and Maxwell (sitting on and behind his desk, respectively). And not one of them had spoken a single word yet.

Well, that was until C.C. seemed to finally have enough of the silence.

"Oh, this is getting ridiculous," her commanding tone was almost perfectly mixed with the annoyed groan he could also hear. She leaned forward on the loveseat, pointing between Maxwell and Niles. "The pair of you have to start doing some talking, right now."

"Yeah," Fran piped up. "Ya both promised you'd do this, ya can't just _sit_ here forever!"

He didn't know about Maxwell, but she _was_ right in that _he_ had promised. And he _did_ want to clear the air – he'd wanted to talk things over for so long, he couldn't let his nerves get the better of him now! Besides, C.C. was there with him. She was on his side, and so was Fran.

What was the harm, really? They had to start somewhere if they hoped to repair anything at all…

"Alright," he relented at last, feeling some swell of relief that the quiet tension had broken. Even if it was now being replaced by a vocal one. "You're both right. We came here to talk, and I suppose we can't just sit here not saying anything now."

"Well, this whole scenario _did_ start with you, Niles," Maxwell cut in, leaning back in his chair and waving a hand as though giving permission for him to continue. "So, seeing as you took it upon yourself to break the silence between the two of us, perhaps you should also be the first to apologise."

Apologise? Well, obviously he would apologise, but only after Maxwell had done so first! _He_ was the one who said Niles should learn to know his place, _he_ was the one who had prompted Niles to quit – had started all of this! Besides, what good was just a simple apology if nothing had been talked through? It was asking for the whole situation to blow up in their faces again, only further down the line!

Luckily, C.C. seemed to be in tune with him on this one (as well as a multitude of other things).

"Now hold on just a minute, Maxwell, expecting an apology just like that isn't exactly _fair_ ," she pointed out. "Don't you wanna at least hear Niles' side of the story before we get to that stage?"

Maxwell looked like she'd just offered him something extremely unpleasant, which he then had to swallow. He turned to Fran, who returned the look with one that indicated she thought C.C. had a point. It was probably more than a little unusual for him to have to experience that.

Seemingly realising that it was three against one right then, he huffed out an annoyed breath.

"Alright, fine," he said irritably. "Go on then, Niles. Get on with telling us all how you wanted to leave us anyway."

Niles had been about to start speaking, when the dark-haired producer's words registered fully. What did he mean, " _leave them anyway_ "? That made it sound like this had been in his mind all along! There had only been one good outcome from what had gone on in the last few months, and she was returning his look of confusion with one of her own.

He turned from C.C., blinking at his former employer, "…What are you talking about? What do you mean, " _leave_ "?"

"You came in here on that fateful day, wanting to know what you would get if you were to leave your position," Maxwell didn't just sound clipped anymore. He sounded…hurt, but like he was trying to hold it in. "Money. Healthcare. That kind of thing."

Niles thought back – far back to the time Maxwell was talking about. He had asked what he would get as part of a pension; he'd only wanted to know if the details had changed!

Maxwell must have misunderstood. There was no other explanation.

"Yes, as part of my _retirement plan!_ " Niles half-exclaimed. "I was going over the details I already had, and I wanted to know if any of them had changed!"

"Then why did you sound so eager?" Maxwell rose from his seat, leaning forward on his desk.

Niles also got to his feet, approaching the desk, "I wasn't _eager_ , I was in a hurry! I'd already spent too much time on the details and had to get dinner started! And you had your head buried in some contract or other, I only meant to be quick! Were you even fully _listening_ to me when I came in?"

Another silence fell over the room after he asked this. Maxwell seemed to be going through some internal struggle, like he wanted to argue back but couldn't think of the words. All it did was apparently confirm that he hadn't been listening when Niles had come in that day.

Eventually, the dark-haired producer ducked his head towards the desk, and let out something like a sigh, "So…you weren't planning on taking what you could get, and then running out the door?"

Niles' face fell, and he felt hurt swell in his chest. Maxwell _really_ thought he would do that, after all the years that they'd known each other? He'd thought they were like brothers – a family, and family didn't abandon each other. No matter what, they stuck together.

"Of course not," he replied, his voice softer and tinged with some of the pain being pushed away for such a trivial misunderstanding gave. "It…well, it's not really my place to say this, but I still think of you all as my family."

In the pause that followed, Maxwell lifted his head again, and Niles could see a few tears pooling in the corner of the man's eyes.

The producer nodded minutely, biting the inside of his lip, "You're our family as well, Old Man."

Niles frowned, "Then why did you say that I wasn't?"

"I was…having a bad day; I was under stress, and you coming in to talk to me wasn't really helping. Not that I should have taken it out on you like I did, or misunderstood so badly, but it got to the point in the argument where I…would've said just about anything to have the last word," Maxwell rounded his desk to lean on the front side of it, looking like he was ashamed. "And afterwards, I suppose I tried to convince myself that I had been right all that time – that you weren't there anymore, so it didn't matter what was said. I tried to move on from it, but couldn't. A-and the feeling that maybe I was the one who was in the wrong made me want to push the issue away entirely."

So _that_ explained why he had held onto the anger for so long. He'd had too much stubborn pride, and refused to let go of it. Even if he _did_ miss how things had been, he hadn't been able to get past the possibility that maybe he'd been wrong.

But his current tone and appearance told Niles that that wasn't the case anymore.

"But I admit it; I was wrong. I should have listened to you, and avoided all of this in the first place. And I never should have said that you weren't family, or that you should learn to know your place. You already knew it. So, I suppose what I'm saying is…I am sorry, Niles."

There was another silence, in which Niles could feel his own eyes welling up. Before he knew it, he was stepping forward in order to embrace his friend.

"I'm sorry too…sir," he mumbled, relishing the feeling of being patted on the back. "For shouting at you like I did, and for all the names I called you-"

Maxwell pulled out of the hug to look at him questioningly, "You didn't call me many names, Niles."

Niles looked sheepish, "In my head, I did."

The producer blinked, but shook his head.

"Well, let's never mind about that, now," he gave the butler a good-natured slap on the arm. "It's time to celebrate being friends again!"

Niles smiled at his renewed employer, "That sounds wonderful to me."

Maxwell smiled as well, his tone remaining cheerful, "You still have to pay for the door you broke when you slammed it."

Niles nodded, the smile never leaving his face, "I imagined I would."

At this stage, Fran and C.C. chose to jump back into the conversation, and while Fran went to her husband (a few tears in her own eyes), C.C. came forward, digging through her purse.

"Well, we can settle that right now!" she declared. "I'll pay for the door, and we can get-"

Niles gently pushed her hands down.

"Put that away," he told her, clasping at her fingers when she'd dropped whatever item she'd managed to grab back inside the bag. "If you don't mind, I'd like to make this up myself. I don't know how I'm _going_ to entirely, but I'd still like to."

"Well, perhaps a little bit can come outta yer salary each week," Fran suggested, the expression on her face denoting that there was more to this plan than Niles had previously been aware of. She wound her arm around Maxwell. "We _are_ in need of a butler around here."

"What?" Niles looked confused. "What about the new man, Lawrence?"

"He may or may not have gotten a better job offer elsewhere," C.C. grinned, slightly leaning on him as she casually folded her arms. "Apparently, a professor that someone here may or may not be related to and his partner were offering better rates at _their_ home."

Niles' eyebrows shot up, "Maybe I should have applied there."

"Yer too late, Niles. Lawrence wrote a letter of resignation this morning and was gone right after lunch," if he didn't know any better, Niles would have said that Fran looked smug about the whole situation.

And her husband's expression seemed to suggest that he knew nothing of this arrangement.

"He didn't tell _me_ any of this!" Maxwell exclaimed.

"He tendered his resignation ta me, 'cause you were working. Did I not show you the letter?" Fran blinked up at him, clearly feigning innocence, before shrugging. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry…! Well, now you know…"

The dark-haired producer looked at her for a few seconds, before giving a wry smile.

"I do, don't I?" he at least sounded amused by the whole affair. He gave Niles another tap on the arm. "But of course, the man of the hour should have his say, too. What do you think, Niles? Do you want to come back, and work for us again? The pay is the same, but the hours are slightly different. Lawrence used to visit his sister on the weekend, so you'd be getting both Saturday _and_ Sunday off."

It didn't really take too long to think about it. Even if everything had been exactly the same, he knew where he was supposed to be working, and after an encouraging nod from C.C., he knew he could give an answer.

"That sounds wonderful to me, sir."

He put out his hand for Maxwell to shake.

"Excellent," Maxwell grinned, gripping his hand tightly. He then released him, hugged his wife around the shoulders briefly, and made to return to his chair. "And I suppose this means that this little meeting is adjourned. Perhaps we should all start getting back into our usual routine?"

"Just a minute, Maxwell," C.C. piped up, stepping forward. "There's, uh…one more thing Niles and I have to take care of."

Maxwell looked between the two of them, and then over at Fran, who shrugged.

He sighed, and waved his hand a little as though he were dismissing them.

"Alright, you two. Just don't be long."

"It'll only take a few minutes," C.C. grinned, and grabbed Niles' hand, using her head to gesture towards the door. "Come on."

He allowed her to pull him out of the room, and through the living area, towards the front door.

What was she doing? What did she have in mind?

"Where are you taking me?" he asked.

She smirked at him over her shoulder, "You'll see."

She opened the front door, and brought him outside, down the street to where her car was parked. She took him around the back, to stand by the trunk.

Niles slyly raised one eyebrow, a hint of a smirk appearing on his features as he looked at the back of the car, "If you're planning on kidnapping me, in order to take me somewhere remote to use for your own perverted pleasure, then I have only one thing to say to that; you could at least have given me time to pack a bag."

"It isn't that. Not _yet_ , anyway," C.C. chuckled, bringing one arm around his shoulders and tracing patterns on his chest with one finger. "Although, with these new hours you have, perhaps a dirty weekend away isn't such a bad idea after all…"

Niles grinned, taking her hand in his and kissing it, before letting go to focus on the trunk, "I have to agree with you there. But in all honesty, what is this?"

C.C. dug through her purse for her keys, and unlocked the car to open it up.

"Well, seeing as you have to get up early for your job, staying in your old room during the week makes more sense," she pulled a suitcase out, and slammed the trunk shut again. "I packed your work clothes, a toothbrush, and other assorted items for you to use. And then, on Friday nights, you can come back to the penthouse with me."

Well, he had to admit that sounded like a good arrangement. He didn't know what he had expected before – he'd probably thought in his head that they would discuss all of this at a later time, but C.C. had taken it all into account already.

She had taken him into account, throughout this entire scenario, and he couldn't be more grateful.

He picked up his case, "That sounds like we might not have to go away, in order to have a dirty weekend."

"Perhaps not," she put her arms around him again, her face less than an inch from his own, and gently rubbed his nose with hers. "And, if I can sneak away from what I'm doing during the weekdays, we can make _those_ a little filthy, too."

Niles huffed out a laugh, "I think I'm going to like this new arrangement, somehow."

C.C. pecked him on the lips, and released him to hold onto his arm as they walked back towards the mansion, "Good, because this is how it's going to stay; at least for the time being."

As they approached the door, he turned to her, "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, lover," she leaned into him again, lowering her voice. "Let's just say that one of these days, I'm hoping it won't take being kicked out and the threat of homelessness for you to want to come to the penthouse on a more… _permanent basis_ …"

Niles put his free arm around her back, "I'll have to keep that in mind. Perhaps we can talk about it this weekend, over some coffee?"

"Sounds perfect," C.C. grinned. Then a glint of amusement flashed in her eyes, and it made Niles think she had an idea. "We can invite my mother."

They shared a spluttered laughter, and Niles leaned forward so that he could plant several more kisses on her lips. She responded eagerly, and they shared a few moments of peaceful silence, their heads resting together, before they turning and going back into the mansion.

They had work to be getting on with, and Friday was just around the corner.

 **The End**


End file.
